


Don't You (Forget About Me)

by amerithotkongs



Series: Hard Carry '85 [1]
Category: GOT7, NCT (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: 80's AU, ANGSSSSTTTTT, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bambam is an 80s superstar, Dancer Yugyeom, Drama, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Smut, all that shit, its a journey, long fic, the rest of got7 is his band, think prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 44,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerithotkongs/pseuds/amerithotkongs
Summary: Winter of 1985.That's the year everything Bambam thinks he knows about himself, the music business, and fame (that was really comprised of hard work, his 4 best friends on dirty club stages and most of his mothers closet) is put to the test. That test is Kim Yugyeom, a college dropout who managed to secure a spot on a renowned world tour.or: that wild ass 80's love story your parents never told you about.





	1. Don't You (Forget About Me)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is my child, treat it well.

Kunpimook Bhuwakul was an enigma.

He was _loud,_ full of attitude, and held a certain ‘ _i’m_ _famous’_ aura that even from just one meeting (if you were unfortunate enough _not_ to know who he was) you knew he was someone special.

To Kunpimook, known in the average American 80′s household as _Bambam_ , he thought he was just as enrapturing - judging by the broad selection of mirrors around his dressing rooms.

He was known to tread the line between femininity and masculinity, erasing it and drawing it back anytime he saw fit.

Bambam was s _omething_ else _entirely_.

 

**Winter of 1985.**

 

That was when everything Bambam thought he knew about himself, the music business, his ‘overnight’ celebrity status (that was really comprised of hard work, his 4 best friends on dirty club stages and most of his mothers closet) was put to the test.

 

That test was Kim Yugyeom.

 

“Great job, _cuntpimook._ Now we need a new fucking dancer a week before the first show!”

 

“Jaebum-hyung, did you know your chin does this _thing_ when you’re mad-”

 

Bambam barely had time to duck before Jaebum launched a stray drumstick at the lead singer.

“C’mon, Jaebummie! Jungkookie wasn’t serious, you know how he is! He’ll come right back,”

The door slammed open as their drummer- Mark, shoved Jaebum and Bambam on the way to retrieve _his_ drumstick. Bambam cackled at the murderous expression on his hyung’s face.

“-They _always_ do.”

Jaebum huffed, “He trashed your entire dressing room and wrote _‘ **FUCK YOU’**_ with red lipstick on your mirrors, along with other nasty ass things I don’t want to repeat by the way.”

Bambam loved his band.

In this dog eat dog business, real friends were about as a rare as raw talent. It helped that he knew them since he was sneaking out from home and performing in bars back in Chicago.

“Bam, you need to keep your dick in your pants, this is the 3rd time this happened. Jungkook was _good_.” Mark, his drummer said, beer spilling onto his favorite ‘PUNKS NOT DEAD’ t-shirt he never knew why he wore, since Bambam’s music was _far_ from punk. He never asked.

“Yoongi already called the radio stations, scheduled auditions in two days. Fuck this up again and I’ll beat your ass _myself._ ” Park Jinyoung, one of his background singers and resident mom of the band threatened.

Jinyoung wiped at Mark’s beer soiled shirt with a tissue, making him blush when he told Mark he was going to have to take it off.

Bambam just rolled his eyes and said:

“I’d rather you just _kiss_ my ass, Jinyoung.”

“Watch it, punk!”

Another drumstick was chucked at Bambam’s head, but this time it was from Mark. The relationships within his band were something he learned never to ask about, as they never asked about his.

“Me first.” Jackson cut in, adjusting the strings of his bass as he sent Bambam a wink.

“Don’t do that Jackson, you know I’d like it too much.”

The band didn’t miss Yoongi mumbling under his breath about them being quote “degenerate cunts” as he passed by.

 _“_ _Love you too Yoongi!”  
_

 

 

 

Kim Yugyeom was a dreamer.

When he wasn’t wiping down tables at the burger joint he worked at downtown, he was busting in at the last minute in the tiny dance studio for his lessons (he’s cleverly told his mom they were tutoring sessions to get her off his back).

He saw his friends practicing what looked like choreo to _Hard Carry_ , Bambam’s newest song from his hit record.

“Yugyeom! Finally came to join us?”

Jimin’s face lit up upon seeing him at the door, knowing how hard the younger worked each week to be there. The boy juggled college, a half time job and dance, coming in with a smile on his face each day.

“Sorry i’m late, I had to bus the dishes.”

Jimin’s eye smile was in full effect upon seeing the younger all bundled up in the pink scarf he got him for his 19th birthday a few weeks back.

“No worries! But shouldn’t you be home studying? Your mid terms exams are in like, two days.”

Yugyeom was just about to respond when _Ten_ , his other best friend, hollered across the studio in his soprano voice.

_“EVERYONE SHUT UP, THE AD IS COMING ON AGAIN!”_

Jimin and Yugyeom shared a questioning look until the radio host said the words that would change their lives forever:

 

_**Okay now, all you dancers out there in Brooklyn, listen up! If you think you have what it takes to dance for a superstar -- Bambam is holding auditions for backup dancers on his Hard Carry tour in two days!"** _

 

Yugyeom’s eyes went wide. “ _Fuck,_ did he say two days?”

 

_“SSH!”_

 

_**If you think you got what it takes, Hard Carry your ass down to Kings Theater from 12 to 5pm. Bring your A game!”** _

 

As soon as the ad went off, _everyone in the room_ went nuts.

Jimin squealed when he grabbed onto Ten and Yugyeom, close to ripping their arms from their sockets.

“Guys, this could be _it_. Bambam’s world tour?!”

“Listen to me- he’s fucking Thai-American royalty for one, _Two_ he’s just...” Ten rested the back of his hand on his forehead and fell into Jimin’s chest dramatically.

“Get up, Ten.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “Why aren’t you saying anything, Yuggie?”

The younger only sighed. “It’s the same day as my mid terms, and i’m already behind as it is...but i’d be stupid to pass this up, right?”

Ten and Jimin nodded sympathetically, letting him know they’d be behind him no matter what he chose.

He just hoped it was the right decision.

 

 

 

 

Two days came and there they were, watching one unspectacular audition after another.

One thing you couldn’t take away from Bambam was his perfectionism.

It was the reason every show was sold out. Why Rolling Stone pushed out article after article, why MTV was up his ass about a _second_ concert series (it’s not that he didn’t like the attention, but _some_ things didn’t need to be caught on camera).

Bottom line, Bambam knew what he wanted. And he would stop at nothing to get it.

The four band members exchanged exhausted expressions after the 10th rejection.

If it wasn’t their lines, it was their outfit, their facial expressions, looking _‘too much like an old hookup’_.

Needless to say audition days were _more_ than a drag.

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “Bambam, if you don’t pick someone already--we’ve been sitting here all fucking day!”

“Then we’ll sit here until I find who I want. If you have a problem, you know what to do.” Bambam quipped, taking a drag of his cigarette. He didn’t smoke much (not cigarettes at least) but on days like these, he couldn’t imagine not choking his lungs with the smoke to pass the time. He swore it was like nobody had an ounce of originality anymore.

Everything was so.. _boring_. So _safe_.

The star groaned when he heard the opening to Like A Virgin for the millionth time today than he did the _entire_ decade.

“If one more person dances to Madonna, i’m gonna shoot myself. I can’t stand her anymore and I just met her last month!”

Jackson hyena laughed, making the three others join in as they remembered the iconic night that was plastered all over the newspapers the next day.

One was also framed and sitting on his bed with the ‘sweet’ sentiment: _“Don’t you want your kids to see their daddy snorting coke off of Madonna’s--”_ ending with a slap to each of his band mates.

He _kept_ the frame, of course.

In the midst of their laughter, they didn’t notice a lanky tall boy with floppy brown hair and walk out and nervously take the stage, but everything ceased when the the guitar opening to Prince’s  _When Dove’s Cry_  filled the auditorium.

Bambam perked up, eyes widening when the anonymous boy started rocking his hips from side to side.

All signs of earlier nervousness melted off of him when the beat dropped, only passion coursing through him when he dropped to his knees in the beginning of the song, making the 5 members eyebrows jump to their scalps as he quite literally _fucked_ the floor of the stage.

_Now this is more like it._

Jaebum’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t take his eyes off of him.

“How _old_ is this kid--”

“Shut the fuck up, JB!” Mark whisper-yelled, not wanting to miss a second of the performance. It was the longest he’d been awake all day.

Bambam on the other hand, stayed silent in his seat for the first time. By no means was it the first time someone danced to this song today, but to call what he previously saw ‘dancing’ compared to what he was seeing _now_ was fucking illegal.

He had to have him.

The boy hands were roaming down his torso as he got back on his feet, a satisfied smirk growing on his lips as he popped his body to the beat.

A light sheen of sweat covered his lean body and made his white shirt tacky on his skin. The exposed top buttons of his shirt combined with those magnificent legs that went on for _eons_ made him stir in his seat.

_Who in the hell was this kid?_

Bambam swore it was like he knew _exactly_ the effect he was having on his audience, but he seemed to be more immersed in the song than _anything_. He hadn’t felt this connected to a performance in so long.

He knew he loved this record _before_ , but seeing the boy genuinely having fun as he danced made him want to drive to the store and buy 50 more copies of it.

He was absolutely amazing.

 

“Stop.” 

 

Jinyoung raised his hand and the music ceased, making the boy freeze in his position as if he was playing a game of freeze tag.

“You can move though.” Jinyoung added with an amused smile, making the boy nod and wring his hands before forcing them by his sides as he looked at them expectantly.

Well, everyone except _Bambam_.

Interesting.

“What’s your name, baby boy?” Bambam asked, enjoying the stained pink cheeks he got in return from the pet name. He made it a note in his mind to use it more often after such a beautiful reaction.

His eyes darted from the floor to Bambam, to the empty chairs behind them where more dancers were waiting.

He was nervous. How _cute._

“Yugyeom Kim. Or Kim Yugyeom! I’m from South Korea, but I live here in Brooklyn, I love your music-”

When Bambam etched the name in his memory, he had little idea it would remain forever.

_“Yugyeom-ah. There’s no need to be nervous.”_

Bambam responded back in near perfect Korean. The others darted their eyes at him in thinly veiled shock, clearly not expecting that.

Bambam stomped out his cigarette on the auditorium floor as he surveyed the tall dancer.

“How old are you, Yugyeom?” asked Jackson in English, noticing Bambam’s lack of words that he made up for in staring the boy down.

“Just turned 19 a couple weeks ago!”

Everyone laughed, making a pout form on the younger’s face that Bambam didn’t think was cute at all.

He _didn’t_.

‘‘You ran straight here after they blew the candles out didn’t you?” Bambam joked, making Mark laugh and lightly shove him.

“Did you wish for me?”

 

 

Yugyeom blanched in response to the Thai boy’s straight forwardness. Hearing about his attitude on TV and magazines was a different _animal_ than being on receiving end.

For someone who often referred to himself as _‘always ready’_ he definitely came up short today.

“Your wish came true. _You’re in, baby boy._ ”

Yugyeom blushed again, but this time his gaze didn’t leave Bambam’s until someone else spoke.

It felt magnetic. Electric.

“ _Obviously._ ” Jaebum added, “I don’t know how I feel about that grinding business though.”

“Please, JB. He’s an adult here in America. And it definitely isn’t the _worst_ we’ve seen today.” Jackson said, ever the instigator.

The lead guitarist grumbled a low _‘barely’_ in reply, making the boy on stage pout in protest.

Nobody noticed Jinyoung and Mark glancing between Yugyeom and Bambam, exchanging a knowing look as they picked up on the chemistry between the two.

_“Here we go again.”_

 

Yugyeom couldn’t believe it.

 

His excitement was palpable when Jinyoung asked the dancers who made it to stay for their rehearsal schedule. _Especially_ when he asked their manager Yoongi to call Jung Hoseok, their choreographer (one of Yugyeom’s icons) to see when he was free to work with the group, he almost screeched from excitement.

Bambam stayed to greet all of the new dancers, but as he went down the line, Yugyeom’s heart raced even more, a deep swoop in his gut threw him off balance the closer he got.

He kept telling himself this was because he was meeting _Bambam,_ but the stupid blush on his cheeks when he heard him laugh at something Jimin said told him the honest truth.

And then he was in front of him.

He smelled sweet and expensive. He was slightly shorter than himself but even more imposing than the tallest man in the world. His dark black wings of eyeliner resting on his lids went well with the ocean blue contacts he choose for the day. He honestly made Yugyeom feel like he slipped into another world and stumbled upon his beauty on accident.

He didn't even have time to finish burning each feature he stared at on glossy paper and pixelated screens into his memory when he _spoke_.

Bambam’s professional smile melted into a knowing smirk.

“Congratulations, Yugyeom-ah. It’ll _definitely_ be a pleasure to work with you.” Yugyeom flushed at the smooth, saccharine voice he’s only heard on his records at home.

He thought he’d burst at the warmth of his hand when it took his, the touch lingering a bit longer before he whispered _something_ in his ear and took off without another word.

There was a purposeful sway to his hips when he walked away.

_Shit._

“What was _that?_ ” Ten asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“What was what?” Yugyeom decided on playing dumb and acting as if the warmth of Bambam’s hand wasn’t still a ghost feeling on his palm. Or that the words he whispered to him _didn’t_ make him stiffen and tremble from head to toe.

Honestly, he just didn’t know what to make of it and didn’t want to tell his friends until he did.

Unfortunately unlike Ten, Jimin caught on well enough.

“Be careful, Yugyeom-ah.” Jimin said in a low voice, “You don’t want people to _assume_.”

He was about to ask what he meant but the warning look in his eyes told him exactly what that statement meant. He quickly turned away, looking back at Bambam as he animatedly talked with one of his band members.

_You don’t want people to assume you fucked for the position._

Impossible.

He worked way too hard for that to happen. He decided then that he didn’t care how alluring Bambam was.

His dream had to come first.

 

 

 

Bambam waited.

And he _waited._

It’s been an hour. He was sure he said it clearly. He even said it in Korean to make _sure_ the younger understood him.

The boy was shy, yes, but he thought he’d be at least be a _little_ interested in his offer. Everyone didn’t get an invited to _Bambam’s_ dressing room for fucks sake!

He wiped off his lipstick and dropped the peach silk robe from his shoulders that his favorite stylist, Kim Taehyung got him under the guise of:  _“You need to look glamorous even when i’m not here to make it happen, Bammie.”_ with his signature rectanglular smile.

In all of his naked glory, he headed to his clothing rack trying to choose an outfit for the night.

He decided to play his Prince album (that Yugyeom had absolutley  _nothing_ to do with) as he got ready.

Naturally, he missed the 3 soft knocks against his door when he was deciding between leather and denim pants.

The door opened and Bambam didn’t even bother look up.

“Yes? I’m kind of busy--”

 

“OH MY GOD!” a shrill voice that belonged to none of his members rang out into the room.

The extreme reaction made him shoot up and glance at the guest.

“ _Shit._ ”

 _Naturally_ , it was Yugyeom.

“Fuck, I’m s-so sorry Bambam-ssi, I’m leaving now!”

The mortified but intrigued look on Yugyeom’s face almost made Bambam burst out laughing when he beckoned him back in. The boy eyes were wider than china plates, hiding them behind his hands when their glances met.

“It’s okay. But you need to be quiet. You don’t want everyone rushing in here while i’m butt naked with you, right?” he smirked, feeling closer to Hell than he ever felt. He liked what was happening- _loved_ it in fact.

He even ignored the uncomfortable cold draft on his balls from the air conditioner for this.

_Damn it all to hell._

Yugyeom meekly nodded in response, still not making eye contact with the Thai boy as he sat on the soft blue couch.

“I’ll be dressed in a second, baby boy. Just stay over there on the couch.”

He never took so long too pick out an outfit in his _life_ , and him being who he was- that said something.

When he finally put on his clothes (albeit _slowly_ ) he was pleased to find Yugyeom’s eyes following his fingers as he buttoned his silk white shirt.

He practically _saw_ Yugyeom’s breath leave his body as he came to sit _right_ beside him. One tight, leather clad leg crossed over the other.

 

Bambam grabbed a blue lollipop in the bowl in the middle of his coffee table and handed it to the younger, asking him to unwrap it for him.

Yugyeom watched as he slipped on his _signature_ hot pink boots with the tallest heel he could perform in.

He swore he was dreaming.

“Thank you. I always like to have something _sweet_ in my mouth before a show.” Bambam said, accepting the the candy back from the younger as he popped into his mouth. 

“S-shit, O-okay then.” Yugyeom responded, making Bambam _giggle_. He wanted to hear that at least every day before he died.

“You’re cute. Kim Yugyeom is it?” he nodded, feeling one of Bambam’s hands rest on his knee. “You think _you_ deserve to share the stage with me and my boys?”

“Isn’t that why you called me here? In your...dressing room? For us to t-talk about it?”

The silver haired boy hummed around his lollipop, barely missing Yugyeom’s pupils dilate in response.

Baby boy didn’t really have a _clue_ about this business. He was so fresh and _pure_.

So _naive._

“Oh love...the _last_ thing I use this room for is to talk business,” Bambam chuckled. “Not the suit and tie kind anyway. What’s on your mind though?”

He laid the candy against his plump lips, anticipating the boys response.

“I uh...I just wanna dance for you-- _the band_. For the you _and_ the band on stage.”

“Everyone outside of this door does. But what they don’t know is...this business can chew you up and spit you out. Swallow you _whole._ ” He leaned his arm on the back of the couch, noticing a pretty beauty mark below one of his eyes.

God, this boy was art _everywhere_.

Yugyeom sat still as a board until Bambam ran his fingers through the boys plain brown hair.

Bambam _sure_ didn’t miss the way the younger’s eyes snapped shut at the contact, slightly leaning into it like he craved it. Like he wanted _more_.

“Can you handle that, _Gyeomie?_ ”

Yugyeom’s shivered at the new nickname. His eyes shot open again, wilder this time as he wrung his hands like at the audition.

Playtime was coming to a close. He was nervous.

Bambam resisted the urge to scoff at his own antics. Since when did he notice things like that about anyone?

“ _Answer me_ , Gyeomie.” Bambam ran his hands through the soft strands, resisting the urge to tug.

“Yes,” he breathed out, his eyes connecting with Bambam’s with a newfound vigor. He swallowed before he answered again.

“Yes I can.”

Bambam grinned. _This was going to be fun_ , he thought.

“Good.”

And that was it.

 

Bambam stood up from the couch and Yugyeom let out a sigh of relief.

But was it wrong to feel disappointment in his heart for losing the undivided attention so many people longed for? That _he_ was starting to long for?

This couldn’t be good.

“C-Can I go?”

“Yes. But _one_ last thing, baby boy.”

He gently grabbed Yugyeom’s hand, handing him a _red_ lollipop out of his jar.

“I never give these to anyone. They’re my babies.”

“W-Why me then?”

“Because...” Bambam ran his hands through his hair again. “You’d look fucking _hot_ in red.”

 

 

 

 

_“He did W H A T?!”_

_“You’re lying, he did NOT say that!”_

_“Jimin stop it, our baby wouldn’t lie!”  
_

 

It didn’t take long for his friends to interrogate him after the _incident_. He did leave out Bambam being naked, of course. He didn’t think the two boys could handle _that_ much tea in one night.

“It’s all true. But you _have_ to keep it quiet, okay?”

 _“Of course!”_ they both said at once, making Yugyeom sigh in relief. It’s not that he didn’t trust them, but this could _not_ get out to anyone. He couldn’t risk that.

The three dancers were piled on Jimin’s bed, taking turns with a rubic's cube while MTV droaned on in the background.

It was Yugyeom’s turn with it when Jimin spoke.

“What did your parents say about the tour, Yuggie?”

Yugyeom stomach twisted in guilt, “As far as they know, I’m in my dorm studying.”

Jimin sucked in a breath. If the younger kept lying like this, it would come back to bite him in ways he couldn’t imagine. He didn’t want the boy to lose his family. Experience taught him _that_ lesson.

“So what you’re _saying_ is, you’re still lying to them.”

“ _Jimin._ ” Ten warned, noticing the discomfort on Yugyeom’s face. The Thai boy took it upon himself to change the subject. 

“ _Anyways_ , does our son Yuggie have a crush on a certain Thai superstar, or what?”

Yugyeom flushed, “No! We just-it’s _nothing_.” he lied.

Jimin hummed in approval. “Good. As iconic as he is, you guys know he has a _reputation_.”

Ten rolled his eyes. Jimin was _really_ overdoing it with the protective shit tonight. With bringing up his parents, to Bambam -- the boy was practically about to burst to tears.

“ _Whatever_ Ten, Yuggie doesn’t _need_ to be one of his tour groupies. He probably picks any new pretty dancer he finds interesting and dumps them when he’s finished.”

 

_Wow._

Yugyeom shouldn’t be offended. He shouldn’t be. 

It was the truth wasn’t it? There was no way a _superstar_ like Bambam would actually be interested in a _nobody_ like Yugyeom. He knew this. Yet, he couldn't explain why it hurt so much when Jimin said it.

_Was that really how he felt? That he was just his newest toy?_

Ten whined when he felt Yugyeom untangling their legs. The younger headed straight for the door.

“Yugyeom-ah..”

“I’m just,” he swallowed, “ _really_ tired from rehearsals and...goodnight guys.” 

He slammed the door.

Ten turned to the orange haired culprit. “ _Great_ job, Park.”

 

 

 

When Yugyeom showed up to the first show with his usual brown locks traded in for a cherry red, Bambam was _more_ than pleased.

When Yugyeom met him in the dressing room that night, he was _ecstatic_.

When he didn’t need to ask anymore, he swore he was dreaming.

But all dreams have to come to an end at some point.

For some sick reason, people _hate_ to see others happy. Bambam never understood why.

Maybe it’s because of something deeply disturbed in themselves.

He knew this, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. He guessed that was where him and Yugyeom first went wrong. They’d developed a routine; Every time a show ended, Yugyeom would knock lightly 3 times so no one saw him come in. They’d sit and talk about music, the show, sometimes even each other (though those talks didn’t last long with how flustered Yugyeom got).

But it easily became Bambam’s favorite part of the night. Seeing Yugyeom open up each night would never bore him.  _Yugyeom_ would never bore him.

 

 

Bambam was in his dressing room, removing the makeup from that night’s show when he heard quick knocks wrap against his door.

He smiled to himself.

Yugyeom was eager to talk tonight, he guessed.

“Enter.”

“YO, Bambam-ah!!”

 _That_ obviously wasn’t Yugyeom.

“Jackson?” Bambam said, the disappointment in his tone making Jackson step back.

“Well _damn_ , nice to see you too.” he laughed, ripping off his sweaty shirt and bounding towards the Thai boy like they’ve done many nights before.

Before _Yugyeom_.

“Fuck, It’s been so long! JB is busting my balls at rehearsals. He’s only older than me by like a month, you know.”

The platinum blonde rambled on, somehow attaching his lips to Bambam’s neck and complaining about JB at one time.

“Why don’t you just fuck him, or something? All this tension is making everyone restless.” Bambam quipped, a small moan escaping his lips when Jackson squeezed his ass through his pants.

Damn. It _has_ been a while.

“Because I wanna fuck _you_ ,” He mumbled with a signature childish whine, making Bambam cackle. “Are you down? Or do I have to walk in on Mark and Jinyoung again. _Please_ don’t make me do that, Bambam-ah.”

Bambam consented.

He ran his hands over Jackson’s golden, toned abs, but all he could think was how Yugyeom’s soft dancers body would look on display. All bare and ready for _him_. The younger squirming under his hold as he _begged_ \--

“I need to come, Bambam-ah..”

Oh right. _Jackson_. He covered for his moment of fault.

“Stop whining, asshole.”

He ran his tongue up to column of Jackson’s neck, loving the way he hissed at the cold feeling of his tongue ring he got at 4am on the vegas strip (don’t ask). All he knew was that it was one of the best decisions he ever made in his 21 year old life. He quickly undid Jackson’s belt buckle and shoved his tight ass jeans down his thighs, along with a quick slap to his ass. Jackson keened and pushed back into his touch, looking at him like he was the only drop of water in the Sahara.

He supposed one more night wouldn’t hurt.

 

 

 

_“Yo, Yugyeom!!!”_

He came out from his dressing room all fresh and showered, honestly just wanting to go to sleep after the double encore show.

But of course, someone _had_ to come knocking.

“Yeah?”

A blonde dancer he didn’t yet know the name of, stood in front of his door.

“Bambam said he needed to see you. He said it was urgent, or something.”

“Bambam? Where is he?”

“I don’t know, try his dressing room.”

“Okay, sure.” Yugyeom nodded, thanking the dancer and making his way to Bambam’s room. He was always too trusting of people.

He was too far away by the time Jimin, who saw the whole thing, came up to the dancer and shoved them in the shoulder.

“What the _hell_ , Wonho?”

The blonde shrugged. “You know he needs to see it.”

 

 

 

Bambam had just gotten Jackson off with his mouth and stood back up, fixing his mussed hair the best he could in the mirror.

“Alright, that’s as far as I’m going tonight, buddy. I’m tired as hell.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes at the Thai boy’s weird behavior. He never let anyone leave without finishing him off. That was like his _golden rule_ or some shit.

“You didn’t even get to come, it’s my duty- never leave a friend unfinished.”

And Jackson _dutifully_ dropped down to his knees and stroked Bambam’s length with determination.

“Strong set of morals you got there-  _fuck!_ ”

“Want me to stop?”

He went faster and faster, Bambam had to grab his shoulders to stay upright.

“I’ll kick your f- please don’t!” Bambam whined, resolve crumbling when he felt Jackson’s warm mouth engulf him.

Of course, he didn’t hear the 3 soft knocks at his door.

Nor did he hear the creek of the door as it opened

 

And of course, it was nobody but _Yugyeom_.

 

“Shit!” Bambam shouted when he finally opened his eyes, shoving Jackson off of his dick and grimacing at the lewd _‘pop’_ sound it made. As if this moment needed any _more_ sound effects.

“Shit, Bambam!” Jackson yelled, rubbing his back from the impact.

“ _Yugyeom...”_

Bambam didn’t know why, but of all the times people caught someone sucking his dick, _this_ was the one time he actually felt ashamed.

(Or maybe he _did_ know why and that’s what made it suck even more--no pun intended.)

“Is _this_ what you needed to _‘see me’_ for?! You’re fucking sick!”

Yugyeom sounded so different when he was angry. His voice wavered, his back hunched, his _eyes_ told everyone how hurt he was.

Bambam decided he hated it.

“No? _No!_ What are-what are you talking about Gyeomie?” He grabbed for his silk robe, eyebrows furrowed at his words.

Did someone actually _send_ him here?

“Nothing, I need to go.”

“Wait, Yugyeom-ah!”

A minute after the door slammed they sat in scandalizing silence.

Well, until Bambam chucked a hairbursh at one of his mirrors, causing it to fall from the wall and shatter onto the ground in shards.

_“Fuck!”_

Jackson gaped at his friend, not having seen him this upset without drugs or alcohol being in the inhibitor.

_All over this Yugyeom kid?_

This was different and entirely _new_ for Bambam and everyone around him. He knew he needed to talk with the others about this, but he didn’t want to upset Bambam even more.

“I’ll get someone to clean the shards so you don’t hurt your-”

“No. Get out, please."

“ _Bambam._ ”

“I’m not mad at you, just- _please_ Jackson.”

Jackson gave him a _‘don’t do anything stupid’_ look before he left Bambam to his own devises.

It was a bit too late for that one.

 

 

 

_The first show was nothing short of a success._

_His team managed to pull it off, putting together this entire show so well it made Bambam emotional if he thought too hard about it. So he didn’t._

_Instead, he declined the offers of his band mates to explore Brooklyn’s nightlife and stayed in their hotel. He found a gorgeous white grand piano in one of the conference rooms, running his blue painted fingernails along the keys._

_The piano was the first instrument he mastered._

_He learned a simple C-scale when he was 14 and wouldn’t leave it for hours. T_ _here was something about the simplicity of the black and white keys and the wide array of sounds they produced made the blood pump through his veins._ _There was something so sacred about it, so godly._

_He could make people cry, make them dance- all from the tips of his fingers._

_“You gonna stare it all night, or play something for me?”_

_Bambam stiffened at the sudden company, not particularly wanting to be bothered. But of course, he_ _softened immediately when he saw it was Yugyeom at the door. His red hair was damp from a shower, wearing a soft grey over sized sweater and jeans._

_“That after show adrenaline makes you too bold. Gonna get yourself in trouble, baby boy.”  
_

_“Maybe I wanna be in trouble.” He teased, a shit eating smile all over his face as he entered._

_“Stick with me Gyeomie,” he quickly played a little tune, watching his boy lay across the top of the piano. “And you will be.”  
_

_Yugyeom stared at the chandeliers on the ceiling before speaking again._

_“Play something for me, Bambam-ah. I wanna dance.”_

_“You just danced for an hour and a half!” He said humorously, in awe of the tireless boy in front of him who freestyled to his rough piano rendition of Hard Carry.  
_

_It went on for about a half an hour until both they settled down again. Bambam played random keys and Yugyeom took his place on top of the piano again, a somber look on his face._

_“My parents don’t know I dance. They don’t..they think i’m in school. I’ve been lying to them for as long as I can remember.”  
_

_Bambam stopped playing._ _He took in what Yugyeom told him, silently deciding how to approach the sensitive topic._

_Considering people’s feelings. Another Yugyeom-contagious action he’s guilty of._

_“You know..sometimes- most times, I don’t think I deserve any of this.” he said, gesturing to the space around him. “The success, the money...the extras.”  
_

_You._

_They both sat through a pregnant silence, the confessions of their demons being loud enough for them._

_Yugyeom sat up._

_“I’m afraid of doing something I can’t take back.”  
_

_They locked gazes._

_“Then don’t.”_

 

 

 

 

Yugyeom was an _idiot_.

He didn’t know why he was so upset.

Of course Bambam was gonna have sex- it was _Bambam_. He had no right to even get upset, he’s his _boss_. But it hurt so fucking _much_ , he couldn’t even sit still without curling in on himself at the thought.

It’s been a week since the incident, he hadn’t been eating as often because that meant the possibility of seeing Bambam.

All he did was practice, perform, and head right back to his room for the night.

He felt pathetic.

He _was_ pathetic.

There were several hard knocks on his door in the middle of his self loathing session.

Who the _hell_ could that be right now?

He looked through the peephole to see Yoongi-hyung and some other kid he didn’t recognize right next to him.

 

_“Open the door you giant damn baby!”_

 

Yugyeom slammed open the door in annoyance.

“Hey, took your lazy ass long enough. This is Choi Youngjae, new addition to the vocal line.”

“Okay?..”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the kid’s attitude before continuing.

“He’s staying with _you_. So clean up this fucking shit hole.”

He pushed past Yugyeom to set this _Choi Youngjae’s_ bags down next to the empty bed.

After Youngjae thanked him, he gave Yugyeom a quick once over.

Yoongi knew what happened through word of mouth, but it didn’t mean the kid had to stop taking care of himself.

“And come down for dinner after you settle him in, alright? Can’t have you idiots starving to death under my care.”

He guessed that was Yoongi’s way telling him to rest and eat for once.

After the manager left, Yugyeom collapsed on his bed, watching the new kid start to unpack. He was handsome, Youngjae.

 _Really_ handsome.

“Not the warmest guy around is he?” Youngjae asked, referring to Yoongi.

“No, not really. But he still cares. He reserves that warm shit for Jimin.”

Yugyeom noticed the manager making googly eyes at his best friend since the first audition, when he asked for directions to the dressing rooms. It was history since then.

The vocalist shivered. “Jimin? is that who he was mumbling about getting back to when we were coming up here? I don’t even wanna know what he’s planning to do when he does.”

Yugyeom laughed, making Youngjae join in with an even _louder_ one that actually lifted his spirits more than they’ve been in a while.

“I’m Yugyeom by the way.”

“I know. I mean- I’ve heard of you.”

Yugyeom’s heart dropped. He guessed the rumors haven’t stopped.

Almost like he sensed the dip in his mood, Youngjae came to sit beside him on he bed.

“But I heard more good things also. About your talent. I can’t wait to see it myself, honestly.”

“Thank you, but I’m no different from the rest. Everyone’s talented.”

“But they aren’t you.”

Yugyeom was about to respond when he heard frantic knocks at his door..

“Who the _hell_ is it now?”

He threw open the door to see Hoseok, Jimin and Ten standing at his door dressed very _well_ for a regular night off.

“Dancers Night Out, bitch!” Ten yelled, “Put on something that’s not.. _that_.”

Everyone laughed as Yugyeom looked down at his outfit in shame. He was wearing his Mickey Mouse sweater he got from his family’s Disneyland vacation and some sweats.

Did they have to call him out though? _Damn._

“And bring the new kid! Let’s show him how the _dance_ line get’s down, right?” Hoseok said, receiving cheers from both Jimin and Ten.

Yugyeom looked back and Youngjae who looked hesitant but nodded anyway.

“Okay, we’re in.”

Hoseok and Ten ran off (Ten hollering about inviting Johnny, a break dancer from Chicago he was plotting for since the line outside of the audition) but Jimin stayed. He shuffled form foot to foot, pushing his orange strands out of his face.

“Are you okay, lately?” He gently put his hand on Yugyeom’s arm, his brown eyes imploring into his as if he’d try to read the answer out of him if he didn’t tell him.

He couldn’t lie to Jimin.

“I’m trying to be.”

Jimin smiled softly at the younger. He didn’t deserve all the shit he was getting from the other dancers, no matter what the situation was. Yugyeom was still his little brother.

“Let’s just go out and have some fun and focus on Ten not humping the shit out of Johnny and getting us arrested for public indecency.”

Yugyeom laughed, pulling his best friend into his room.

“Deal.”

 

 

 

Bambam was an _idiot_.

Since when did he lash out at people over his fucking _~feelings._

He was better than that.

He _knew_ better.

Yet, he was walking on eggshells with his four best friends and he’s been even more high strung than usual. In a very _literal_ sense.

Little did he know they were _all_ at their breaking point.

“I thought you were done with this shit, Bambam!” Jinyoung shouted.

Bambam ‘had to pee’ during a band meeting and Jinyoung ended up finding him doing lines of coke off of the sink.

Personally, Jinyoung lost count of how many times walking in on him doing lines in the bathroom this week _alone_. He gets that Bambam is upset over something, he understands it takes the edge off, but the boy is inhaling that shit by the fucking boatload. It’s _not_ safe.

“That’s your problem, J-Jinyoung-ah,” Bambam pointed his razor at the vocalist. “You think too _much. I thought this, I thought that.._ ”

Jinyoung ignored his babbling.

“You were good for a month, weren’t you? When we got the new dancers, you and Hoseok rebuilding the show? Now he says you barely even show the hell up for rehearsal anymore!”

Bambam was about fire back a pointless response when Mark barged in, rolling his eyes at the sight.

The disappointment in Mark’s gaze was a _real_ trip-ruiner.

“Mark, _help me with him._ ” Jinyoung said, the sad twinge of desperation in his plead making Bambam laugh in his inebriated state.

That was where he fucked up.

Mark had enough.

“You think this shit is fucking _funny_ , Bambam?”

“That’s why I laughed didn’t I?”

Mark seldom raised his voiced in this manner, so when he did and knew he couldn’t calm him himself, Jinyoung had to call in Jackson and JB for backup.

He just hoped they got there before Mark said something he’d regret.

“You think its funny? We have to walk in on you snorting coke and whatever else you manage to get your hands on? Being stupid-high whenever we need to talk to you?”

Bambam stayed silent, seeming to fuel Mark’s rant even _more_.

“That all the paps and magazines say you’re a _talentless druggie who’ll die before 25 without a penny to his name_.” He huffed. “That’s what they say Bambam! That we’ll fade out, forgotten-because of _you!_ ”

“Mark, stop. He _gets_ it, alright?”

Jackson made his way in the bathroom with JB in tow. Bambam clutched his razor in his hands, ignoring the sting because it hurt less than what his hyung had to say.

“No he doesn’t! He wouldn’t get if we left him behind. And he won’t get it until he OD’s and dies.”

“Mark-hyung, control yourself right now.” Jaebum stepped in, pulling the elder back by his shoulder. But Mark only shoved forward until he crouched face to face with Bambam.

He lowered his voice but his next words were no less hurtful.

“You think your little _dancer_ Yugyeom wants to see you like this?”

Jinyoung saw where he was headed. “Don’t you fucking say what you’re about to say, Mark.”

He looked up at him and the breath left his body. Jinyoung never saw him look so exhausted, so _defeated_. He had to admit it.

He was fucking scared of what was next.

If Mark would still be beside Jinyoung when he woke up the next morning.

“Don’t worry. I don’t have to. You know she wouldn't want it.”

Bambam didn’t even notice how Mark stormed out, tears brimming his eyes as Jackson followed.

All he heard was white noise.

That’s all he heard anytime _she_ was brought up.

“Bammie, he was just upset. He didn’t mean that. Especially about...” Jinyoung tried to placate him but it fell on deaf ears. 

He knew Mark meant it all. He’d never blown up like that after all of the years he ever knew him.

And he knew him the _longest_.

“Get me out of here. I need a drink n-now.”

Jaebum snatched him off of the bathroom floor by his blouse. 

“Well you aren’t getting one. You’re going to fucking _bed_ and you’re gonna sleep this shit off and _never_ do it again. Where the hell is Yoongi?!”

The lead guitarist shouted into the hall, making the staff rush to get the small manager.

Jaebum and Jinyoung shared a ‘we’ll talk’ glance before taking each of Bambam’s arms.

It was going to be a long night.

 

 

 

_“Jungkook-ah, you’re so good!”_

_“You should see yourself!"  
_

Yugyeom met Jungkook on the floor while he was dancing, the two of them automatically joining forces. He was impressed with his skill, his ease, and of course - his looks. He had a classic boyish charm (that suggested he was around if not the same age as himself) with a fit physique. The lean muscle in his thighs standing out as he moved practically _yelled_ dancer. 

The gang (Him, Jimin, Youngjae, Ten (+ Johnny) and Hoseok) found a dance club somewhere in the inner city, hearing rumors that a lot of their favorite celebrities frequented it.

But stars were forgotten when they were in the middle of the dance floor, showing off each others moves while Madonna’s _Like a Prayer_ blasted from the speakers.

Youngjae eventually bounded up to them and sang every lyric, his outstanding (and very loud) voice making everyone turn around at the impromptu performance the dancers and singer were putting on.

 _“I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there!_ ” Yugyeom sang, literally getting on his knees as Ten and Jimin whooped and hollered, spilling their drinks as they cheered. Jungkook’s cute bunny-like teeth sparkled when he smiled.

Hoseok literally screamed when he heard the opening to _Billie Jean_  and pushed everyone aside so he could moonwalk down the colorful dance floor.

At this point everyone’s eyes were on the group and it made Yugyeom’s heart race, this is what he loved about dancing in front of people.

 _Entertaining_ _._

Inspiring people to come up and join.

 _That_ was his dream.

 

After Youngjae attempted standing up on his toes like MJ, nearly spraining his ankle in the process -- they wisely decided it was time to head back to the hotel.

Yugyeom looked over at his new friend Jungkook, realizing just how _pretty_ he was under the strobe lights of the club.

The green eyed boy pushed his perfectly styled light brunette hair out of his face, getting a flash of _abs_ when he wiped his face with his shirt. Yugyeom couldn’t even control it when his next words stumbled out.

“Wanna come back with us?”

 

Yugyeom heard the tune of _Candy_  in the distance as he tugged Jungkook into the hotel doors.

Hoseok looked at them with a worried expression but Ten (pulling Johnny along) and Jimin kept nudging his ribs and yelling _“Get it!”_ so loud, the hotel staff was close to turning them _right_ back out of the door.

Yugyeom was staring at Jungkook’s candy pink lips when he softly grabbed his hands and asked him where his room was. He his heart dropped when he thought of Bambam after the action, discreetly dropping Jungkook’s hands.

God, he just wanted to _erase_ everything that had to with Bambam.

His touch, his face, his _lips_.

At least that what he intended.

They stood outside of his room door when Jungkook finally leaned in, running his hands through his hair on the nape of his neck.

_Bambam, Bambam, Bambam._

“I like your hair, Yugyeom.”

When he was about to open his mouth to thank him, someone _else_ did.

A very _drunk_ someone he had no intentions of seeing tonight.

 

_“Thank you Jungkookie, It was my idea. Doesn’t he look sexy?”_

His heart felt like ten tons when it dropped into his stomach.

“Bambam?” Jungkook said, eyebrows furrowing as he stepped away from Yugyeom. There was _recognition_  in his eyes.

_What the fuck?_

“You-You _know_ him? You’ve..” Yugyeom stumbled out, making Bambam laugh in a mocking way Yugyeom decided he didn’t like.

“Of course he knows me. We all know him. He used to dance for me. My favorite bitch Jungkook-ah...used to let me do whatever-”

Jungkook clenched his jaw. “Fuck off, Bambam!”

“Yeah yeah, I saw your little stunt with my lipstick. All bark and no bite. But maybe that isn’t such a bad thing..you know I never liked _teeth_.”

Bambam laughed at his own nasty joke but Yugyeom saw the bright boy from the dance club die in front of his eyes as he curled in on himself after every word.

Now that he looked closer, the boys green eyes didn’t look as natural as they did in the dark lights of the club.

Maybe Bambam thought he looked hot in _green_.

“Don’t listen to him, okay? You can still stay-”

Jungkook bit his pretty lips. “I can’t, Yugyeom. I’m sorry. I _can’t_.”

“O-Okay.” Yugyeom said, hating how shaky his voice was when he saw him walk away.

He quickly dug in his pockets for his room key. He had to get away from Bambam right now.

Where the _hell_ were the hyungs? Where was the _key?_

“They told me I couldnt drink tonight, as if I don’t have a stash everywhere I go.”

Yugyeom couldn’t find his key, he felt his nose burn, he knew he was close to crying.

“Were you gonna _fuck_ him, Gyeomie? Let him have you?”

Bambam almost sounded hurt, but he couldn’t trusted right now. He kept his back turned. He didn’t know why he hasn’t walked away yet or what he was waiting for.

Maybe his entire being ran on false hopes and dreams.

He honestly don’t know what he would’ve done if Bambam didn’t walk out.

If he would’ve kissed Jungkook or went further, it didn’t matter now. 

 

_“He probably picks any new pretty dancer he finds interesting and dumps them when he’s finished.”  
_

 

“Or I would’ve just sucked him off like Jackson did you, right here in the hallway so you could see!” Yugyeom snapped. He wasn’t surprised at how bitter and broken he sounded.

Bambam laughed forcefully. “We were _nothing_! I don’t know why you’re crying over it, Gyeomie. You know what I really want. You’re not gonna be like Jungkook are you?”

“Fuck you! Fuck all of this shit!” Yugyeom felt like an invisible rope tied to his resolve finally snapped, his chest heaved up and down. 

Bambam felt a stab of fear, even in his intoxicated state.

“Stay the hell away from me, Kunpimook, I fucking mean it. I’m _through._ ”

It was like clockwork when he heard Youngjae jogging down the hall with Jinyoung and JB in tow. They took each boy back to their rooms to cool off (or sober up, in Bambam’s case).

As soon as the door closed, Yugyeom raced to the bathroom, suddenly feeling sick to the stomach.

_“Yugyeom...are you alright?”_

He heard Youngjae on the other side of door when he dry heaved over the toilet. Nothing came out. He remembered he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He’d skipped dinner to go out.

“It hurts so _bad_ , Youngjae..”

Youngjae’s heart squeezed at the anguish in the younger’s voice. He didn’t deserve to hurt like that.

“Love tends to do that. You just have to get back up and act like it doesn’t. Until it’s true.”

_Love?_

They sat in silence before Yugyeom cracked open the door.

“What do I do? I can’t.. _see_ him after that.”

Youngjae’s mind pushed a _certain lead guitarist_ to the forefront before he wiped it away, focusing on the hurting maknae. 

“I wish I could tell you. Do what’s right to you.”

He slept in Youngjae’s bed that night, curling around the older as he just _thought._

What if he was in love with someone like Youngjae instead. Would it be easier?

Yugyeom hadn’t noticed he actually voiced his thoughts out loud, making Youngjae hurt even more for the younger.

 

 

 

 

As the wise men of Showbiz say, the show must go on.

The tour continued into the winter.

Yugyeom kept dancing, Bambam kept putting on a great show despite the circumstances.

Neither had much life in their eyes, but if people went home having had a great time that was all that mattered.

Then it all changed when Yoongi had news for the guys, busting into the band dressing room as they all looked at him expectantly.

“Guys, MTV wants to film the next show and air it next Friday. The label pushed for the 55 minute spot, aka our asses can’t refuse.”

He looked over the zoned out lead, snapping his fingers in his direction.

“Bambam, Your thoughts?”

Bambam perked up at the mention of his name, dismissively waving his hand at Yoongi.

“Yeah sure. For the fans. It’s been a while since we did one.”

“That’s true. We need to make sure it’s on _fire_ since it’s televised.” Jackson said, getting Mark’s silent nod in agreement.

Bambam and Mark were still in shallow water since that night, but it would be back to normal in due time. He hoped.

Jinyoung swung his arm around JB, a suspicious shit eating grin on his face.

“With _Choi_   _Youngjae_ on vocals now, there’s no doubt we won’t smash it. Right Jaebum?”

For the first time in his life, he saw Im Jaebum _blush._

“We’re _always_ on fire. Won’t be an issue, will it ya’ll?” Bambam said, finally cracking a small grin with his band mates as he initiated their official chant.

“Hard Carry on three!”

They had faith.

 

 

 

All bullshit aside, Bambam knew how to put on a show.

The show was set to be nothing short of legendary.

Bambam came out with his hair dyed a new dusty pink, tight black leather pants, white shirt unbuttoned nearly all the way down, competed with a custom made blazer with rose gold sequins and jewels over it

 _And_ his signature gold heeled boots? He looked amazing. And apparently the fans thought so too.

Bambam smirked at his band mates when he saw a few people faint at his appearance, making sure the security came and got them before he spoke.

“Tonight, forget all the shit you thought you knew before coming here. Forget the drama, the _rumors.”_

He walked the stage with an aura unmatched.

”Forget those bills, the kid you forgot to pick up at daycare getting ready to see me.” Bambam joked, pleased with the audiences laughter through their screaming and everything in between.

“Basically...it’s all about you. So sit back, no, stand up! Even you at home, and let’s get this fucking show started!” The lights dimmed again before he turned to his band and his dancers for the first song on the set.

 

Yugyeom couldn’t take his eyes off of him on that stage, he never could.

He belonged at the mic and anyone could see that. It was like every person in the room was under his spell, and he knew the feeling all too well. His charisma on stage was one of the many deciding factors in him choosing this career. His talent is why he trusted him creatively- the whole team did.

He was an icon.

Everything else was irrelevant when it came to the stage.

The opening to his newest single _Hard Carry_ came on.

Jaebum’s lead guitar bled through the auditorium while Jackson’s bass and Mark’s drums worked together, creating the sound that drew everyone in and made shivers go down their spines.

Yugyeom got into position, not missing Bambam’s now _hazel_ eyes glued to his body as he sang the opening verse. The fire coursed through his veins under his gaze. 

Bambam officially had him in his palm the only time he could anymore- that hour and 30 minutes on stage. 

Taehyung wanted the dancers dressed in all black but the makeup golden to match Bambam’s bling. All in all, _everyone_ looked stunning tonight for TV.

Yugyeom had dyed his hair jet black, wanting to get away from the memories attached to the _red_ Bambam adored so much. He thought Bambam would be disappointed when he saw it, but he just saw the boys gaze darken upon the first glance.

Bambam liked that look on him even more.

Soon enough, they were halfway through the show, and they arrived to Yugyeom’s favorite song of the whole set, _Prove it._

It’s a sultry track that he thought Bambam’s voice was absolutely sinful on. He spent more than enough time playing it in his room alone back in Brooklyn, imagining being right where he was now.

But his favorite thing about it was the  _choreography_ , he lost himself more than usual when this song was on and everyone noticed throughout the tour -- especially Bambam himself.

 

 

Bambam got chills down his spine when he heard the opening of ‘Prove It’. His eyes subconsciously darted to Yugyeom, watching that confident smirk appear on his face. Yugyeom told him time and time again how much he loved that song, but just one look at him told him before the boy even opened his mouth.

Tonight, he wanted the rest of the world to know too.

_“Yugyeom, baby.”_

He called out to the tall dancer, holding his hand out, waiting for him to take it. 

 _Praying_ he would take it.

And he did.

Yugyeom’s shock was concealed to the stage but Bambam could read him like a book.

He simply smiled and brought him close to quickly whisper into his ear, the deja vu bringing them back to when they first met.

He wanted this more than anything.

He wanted _him_ more than anything.

But it was time for the world to want him as well.

Yugyeom looked out into the crowd, his heart surging up his throat at the thousands of faces staring back at him. It didn’t feel _real_.

 

_“This is your time.”_

 

That was all Bambam said to him.

The words hit him like a freight train.

He stared wide eyed at Bambam waiting for more instruction but all he did was back up behind him like he was showcasing him or something.

And then it _finally_ clicked.

_He was showcasing Yugyeom to the world._

The music brought him out of his reverie as he started to move, dropping down to his knees- just like his audition.

The deja vu made him dizzy, but he stayed grounded.

Bambam was there _with_ him, singing, supporting him, showing _him_ off. He couldn’t fight off his smile if he wanted to, making sure to turn it into a smirk when he gazed into the camera.

This _was_ his time.

He pretended not to hear the _“is he gonna fuck the floor again?”_ from JB in the back along with the _“HELL YES!”_ from the other members.

He focused on the screams from the crowd.

They were screaming for _him._

Yugyeom lied down his back when he finished, not being able to control the tears that flowed from his eyes. Everything he worked for, everything he _risked_ \- it was all worth it.

It was _worth it_.

_“Kim Yugyeom, everyone.”_

The screams were deafening.

 

 

 

That show broke MTV’s ratings for the week, the buzz around Bambam and the band was wilder than ever. But the thing that really put a smile on his face was that they were also buzzing about _Yugyeom._

The kid who stole the show.

He was getting calls from Yoongi- all complaints about ‘ _needing higher pay or a fucking assistant’_  because people were buzzing about Yugyeom so much on top of his regular work load. It was the most he'd smiled in months.

Until this one day in particular.

 

He was getting ready for a movie premiere. He didn’t even know why he was bothering with it, he’d only been in the movie for all of 5 minutes ( _though they were some of the best 5 minutes of his career)._

He guessed Yoongi was trying to squeeze as many appearances as he could out of him, seeing as he became sort of a recluse after Yugyeom.

It wasn’t his fault shit was just _dull_ without Yugyeom by his side.

He barely registered Taehyung talking his ear off about what he saw Whitney Houston wearing on TV the previous night.

He was listening, he _swore_ he was.

Until he heard three soft knocks on his door.

_Yugyeom._

He quickly turned to his chatty stylist, “Tae, get out.”

“I need to finish your lipstick, Bammie!”

“Fuck the damn lipstick! Gyeomie is-”

They both looked up like a deer caught in the headlights when their guest finally entered, his black hair parted down the middle, smile lighting up the entire room.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

 

Yugyeom tried his hardest not to burst out laughing.

Bambam’s mouth was half done with lipstick, Taehyung bent over wresting to fix his appearance in front of Yugyeom as if he wasn’t already standing there.

It definitely wasn’t the worst thing he ever walked in on. But it _was_ the funniest.

Taehyung snatched the lipstick from Bambam’s hands, making the Thai boy scoff.

“You won’t be needing this, you’ll ruin it anyway! See ya brat!” He rushed out, “And don’t ruin that damn hair I worked hard!”

Yugyeom and Bambam laughed to tears as soon as they were alone.

 

 

 

 

“So, how’s my superstar- no wait, movie star?” Yugyeom asked, grabbing a red lollipop for himself and a blue for Bambam. It was nearing the last shows on the tour, which meant everyone became less hostile and more sentimental towards each other for like a _day or two_.

This meant Yugyeom dropped by before _and_ after shows.

“How’s _mine?_ ”

He set down the lollipop, in favor of watching Yugyeom eat his.

“I still don’t know why you did that for me, i’m nothing special- stop staring, Bambam.”

A rose blush broke out over Yugyeom’s face that made Bambam feel more proud after than any album he ever made.

“ _Never_.”

He climbed into Yugyeom’s lap, placing his free hands on the thighs of his ripped jeans. The electricity of Yugyeom’s touch made his whole _being_ tremble with desire.

He knew that would never change.

“You know, the first time I saw you eat one of these stupid lollipops in front of me I almost came in my pants.”

Bambam cackled, tucking his head into Yugyeom’s neck.

“Don’t laugh, I felt like a was 14 years old or some shit.”

“Mm, I mean you basically _were_.” Bambam quipped, earning a slap in his thigh from the younger. It took all of him not to moan like a bitch- he had to at least _try_ to keep his ego in check.

“Don’t make fun of me in this position, Bambam.” Yugyeom warned.

The dark tone of his voice made Bambam smirk.

He loved a challenge.

He also loved how _confident_ and radiant Yugyeom became after his solo moment. It was an honor seeing him grow into the star he was destined to be. The Yugyeom he saw when he first walked on that audition stage.

But right now, _to be quite frank_ \- he wanted to see Yugyeom _come_.

“Yeah? Or what?”

Yugyeom was about to respond until Bambam decided to grind his hips down into his, making the younger whimper more pathetically than he intended.

“God, I love that sound.”

He took the lollipop from Yugyeom’s mouth and placed it in his. He keened when he saw Yugyeom’s eyes darken at the action. He knew exactly how to drive this home.

“You gonna touch me, Gyeomie? Mark me all up,” He kept a loose grip on Yugyeom’s throat, his lips near his ear as he whispered. ”Gonna show everyone i’m _all yours_ now?”

As expected, Yugyeom moaned wantonly at his words.

“You like that, baby boy?”

His hips rocked _hard_ into Bambam’s that time, making the older answer with a rough groan and a tighter grip on the younger’s neck. He was about two seconds from ripping his pants off and doing this _for real_ until he spoke.

“We-we need to be on stage soon- _ah!_ ”

Bambam quickly looked at the time.

They should already be at soundcheck. Yugyeom was right.

He rolled his eyes, climbing off of him with a pout.

“I wanna suck you off, fuck the tour.” he mumbled, making Yugyeom giggle at the older’s antics.

He stomped across the room like a toddler in their terrible two’s, muttering his sudden distaste for the _entire_ music industry and the essence of time itself.

“I have a proposal, though.” Yugyeom blurted out, watching Bambam raise his perfectly sculpted brows.

“Yes, my love?”

“If you finish the entire show and do a _double_ encore...” Yugyeom started, grabbing Bambam’s hand.

“I’ll ride you.”

 

_“WELL WHAT THE HELL ARE WE STILL DOING HERE? CURTAIN CALL!”_

 

 

 

Touring was like high school, you never left the same way you came in.

In Yugyeom’s case, he became desensitized to things he swore were never in the cards for him (or what his parents told him weren’t).

Those things consisted of and were _not_ limited to: drugs, alcohol, sex, sex with _boys_ , and... _eyeliner?_

Needless to say, Yugyeom did _a lot_ of growing up on the road.

“What does it feel like?“

Yugyeom was especially curious when he watched Bambam smoke. The way tension melted from his shoulders, how _pretty_ he looked when he tipped his head back to exhale.

"Elaborate.” Bambam finally let his hooded eyes rest on his boy.

They were outside of tonight's venue before the show. Bambam usually refused when Yugyeom followed behind him on his smoke breaks, but this time he relented. He assumed Yugyeom should see it all- the good, bad, and ugly if they were gonna do this.

“To smoke. I like the way you look when you do it.”

Bambam chuckled.

“I forget how young you are sometimes,” he adjusted the collar of Yugyeom’s leather jacket, loving the way the younger towered over him _just_ a little bit.

“It’s nothing special. People say it relieves stress. But for me its like a sugar pill. It’ll do whatever you think it’ll do.”

“It will definitely kill you.”

“Anything can kill you.”

They sat in silence some more, the burn of Yugyeom’s gaze making him stir.

“I’ll let you taste, if you want.”

Before Yugyeom knew it, he was pinned against the brick wall behind him. The soft pressure of Bambam’s mouth over his making him weak at the knees.

“When I put my mouth on _yours_..” he pecked Yugyeom’s lips. “Breathe in deeply. Let it in your chest, _then_ exhale. Got it, Gyeomie?”

Yugyeom nodded, grabbing Bambam’s lean waist for the first attempt.

“I’m ready.”

“Aren’t you always?” Bambam said rhetorically, taking a drag of his cigarette and passing the smoke on to Yugyeom with his mouth like he said he would.

He wasn’t surprised when he started choking up a lung

Yugyeom wiped some stray tears from his eyes.

“Did I do it right?”

Bambam laughed, nodding towards the door back to the venue.

“I think I have something you’ll like better.”

Then Bambam led him backstage for what seemed like forever, until he reached a final room. After peaking in to see his band mates he led the younger in.

A strong _herbal_ smell hit Yugyeom’s senses from all directions as soon as they walked in.

His bandmates faces all ranged from surprised, slightly disappointed, to straight up amused when they saw who Bambam brought with him.

“Mark-hyung. Show him the stash.”

The handsome drummer curtly nodded, looking around to his band mates for any objections before he pulled out his infamous mason jars. From a drum case.

Bambam turned to him with the shittiest grin he’d ever seen.

“Have you ever been high, Gyeomie?”

 

 

 

**Spring 1985**

At some point, Bambam and Yugyeom became a packaged deal. And if you say you never saw it coming, you were lying.

It wasn’t easy.

Wounds healed, wounds re-opened, new wounds would appear. But it was as rock steady as you could get in a relationship with someone like Bambam at the time.

They never put a label on it, but they never really needed to. Everyone already knew by then.

 _Everyone_.

Yugyeom’s parents obviously found out after MTV and demanded Yugyeom come home, but he refused.

They’d basically _disowned_ him when they put 2 and 2 together about him and Bambam.

Bambam, Ten & Jimin made a pact be to make sure he would never be alone after that.

 

 

The two were curled up on Bambam’s bed, somewhere in Chicago in a hotel the band picked purely for its waffles. Bambam was on edge as soon as he got to his home city, dodging any questions Yugyeom had that weren’t about his old smoke spots, music joints or the like.

Anything related to family was off the table.

Until it couldn’t be anymore.

Yugyeom was laid on Bambam’s bare chest watching Miami Vice on the TV when Yoongi called. He sounded more serious than usual.

 

_“Bambam, we need you to come downstairs. Now.”_

 

“I-I’ll be right there.”

Bambam brushed off Yugyeom’s questions as he headed to the lobby where his band where.

The serious solemn expressions on his bandmates made him want to vomit.

 _“Jinyoungie..._ ”

Jinyoung bristled at the nickname. It only came out when the younger was truly terrified. This was the side of Bambam not even the people closest him got to see. He wasn’t surprised he left Yugyeom upstairs.

“I uh..she’s sick again, Bambam-ah. It’s looking bad. She’s _begging_ to see you.”

Of course it was about _her_.

 _“I cant do this.”_ he spoke in Thai, running his hands through his newly dyed blonde hair.

“Bambam, _please_. She’s still proud of you.” Mark urged, hoping to finally beckon the boy to his mother. It had been too long. If he dragged this out any longer he’d regret it forever, and the boy had enough regrets as it was.

Mark actually visited Bambam’s mother in his place, making sure she was okay for the younger since he knew he wouldn't do it. Bambam was _terrified_ of it. When she was brought up, he’d zone out and become either irrationally angry or completely blank. He only made sure she had enough for her treatments and to live as comfortably as anyone could in a hospital.

But that’s not enough for a _mother_ and damn sure not for her _son._

“Wouldn’t you rather go than regretting not going later in your life. You’re only 21, Bambam.” Jaebum squeezed his hand as Jackson took the other one in earnest.

“We’ll all be there, like we always were. She’s your mother.”

Bambam looked around at all of his bandmates and brought them in for a group hug.

They were right. It was time.

 

 

Bambam entered the hospital room not knowing what to expect. He’d only visited once two years ago when she was first diagnosed, then he couldn’t find it in himself to keep going.

The guilt ate at him until it consumed him and became self destructive.

You _could_ say it ruined him. But even thinking about _himself_ when the woman who raised him tirelessly and unapologetically was dying? It was _selfish_.

_How could she still love him?_

Bambam steeled himself before quietly entering the room. She was lying on the bed, eyes closed, looking as relaxed as she could. She’d lost her thick black hair and full body shape he remembered she came in with. He prayed the chemo wasn’t causing her too much pain.

She was so _small_ now. He wanted to sob at the sight of her.

How had he missed this?

 

_“Mark...is that you?”_

 

His heart skipped a beat.

 _Did she hear his footsteps?_ Damn, her mom-hearing was still on point.

Now he was glued to his spot, kind of wanting to run away and explain it in a lie if anyone asked.

“No mom, I-It’s me. It’s me.”

But he couldn’t run anymore.

“ _Kunpimook?_ Is that really you?” the disbelief in her voice made his eyes water. He was a horrible son.

 _“Mommy.”_  

“Come over here.”

He quickly but carefully wrapped his arms around her frame, but she squeezed just as tight as she did years ago, somehow.

 _“Mom, I’m so sorry.”_ he spoke 50 times over in Thai as he shushed his pleas, slightly rocking him like a child.

“I see you on the TV! You know I’m proud of you, right? You wanted this since you were a child. Stomping around in my heels- I still can’t find them!” They both laughed through their tears. She tightly gripped his hand in hers, probably using all of the energy she had.

“ _Now...”_ She cupped her sons face in her hands, so _grateful_ that he was final in front of her. He’d grown so much. 

“Mark tells me you have a special someone?”

Bambam went red, “No, mom can we just-”

“I want to meet him.”

_"W-What?“_

"You heard me, boy! Mark showed me your show on that MTV! Mommy isn’t dumb.”

Bambam’s cheeks were positively burning when she gazed upon her son in earnest.

She gave him a knowing look. “You didn’t let him come, did you?”

His head hung low.

“No, mother. I didn’t know how this would…I’ll get Yoongi to make an arrangement.”

Just as he was talking he heard 3 soft knocks on the door.

 

It _couldn’t_ be.

 

“Mom, did you-”

 

“Am I interrupting anything?”

His favorite soft voice filled the room, the playful lilt of it making his mother look up and smile brighter than he’d seen her do in ages.

“I see Yoongi still takes my direction well-  _hello_ Yugyeom.”

His mouth dropped open. His mom actually played him.

“Shut your mouth son, you’ll catch flies.”

He immediately snapped his mouth closed in a pout as both Yugyeom and his mother laughed in his expense.

“Both of you are the _worst_.” He mumbled, unable to stop himself from laughing.

His mother made grabby hands at Yugyeom, immediately squeezing him into a tight embrace. Bambam didnt know all of Yugyeom’s situation, but he could tell it’s been too long since the boy had a motherly hug.

 _Both_ of them could’ve used those plenty of times the past year.

“He’s even _more_ beautiful than on TV, Mookie. Don’t you _dare_ mess this up, this is an order from your mother!”

Yugyeom blushed pink from her compliment. He then took her hand and placed a kiss to it, making her literally _squeal and_ nudge Bambam in that annoying mom way.

Bambam held back a much deserved coo at the sight of his mother and Yugyeom.

"Don’t steal my mom, Gyeomie.” _I just got her back,_ he wanted to add.

Yugyeom didn’t look up when he replied, still admiring his mother like a queen. 

She _is_ a queen.

“Not stealing, _appreciating_. Now I know who really gave him all these good looks.”

“Taehyung’s not gonna like that.” Bambam mumbled in amusement, hearing the stylist sound off in his head.

His mother nudged him again. “ _Gyeomie?_ That’s precious, Mookie.”

“Yeah, _Mookie_.” Yugyeom mocked, making Bambam land a swift kick to his shin when his mother looked away.

Their cute moment only lasted about 5 more minutes until the doctor came in, alerted of the presence of her family for the first time in while.

“Bambam, do you have a moment to speak?”

He excused himself from Yugyeom and his mother. He knew what they’d say, but there was nothing he could do to prepare.

He just had to roll with the punches.

 

 

Yugyeom watched Bambam’s expression tighten as he exited the room. He turned away, trying to put on a smile for his mother.

“You don’t need to do that, Gyeomie. I know.”

Yugyeom stayed silent, stroking her hand with his thumb trying hard to keep himself together for him. His mother noticed this, feeling prompted to tell the boy something she saw as soon as Yugyeom entered the room.

What she saw on TV when his son presented him to thousands with a look she only saw him give when connected to his music.

What _anyone_ could see.

“He probably hasn’t said it yet..but he’s in love. He still thinks I didn’t notice all the _boys_ he’d bring home after those seedy bar gigs.”

Yugyeom’s heart _slammed_ in his chest.

“I-In love?”

“Of course. He had a rough time dealing with his emotions as a child. I guess that was an error on my part after my husband left.”

Yugyeom rushed to tell her not to blame herself but she shook her head solemnly.

“Once I saw how into the music he was, I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t _dream_ of it. I just wanted him happy. And now he truly is, with you.”

Yugyeom couldn’t hold back his tears when she grabbed both of his hands in earnest. She thought he’d make a _beautiful_ son in law. She hoped her son thought the same.

“You love him too, don’t you? I saw it on the TV!”

Yugyeom laughed and nodded his head.

“Very much, Ms. Bhuwakul. It even hurts to realize it some days.”

“He’s just stubborn, but please don’t give up on him. He came back to me when _no one_ thought he would.”

They both sat in silence until she spoke up again. This time, her voice was graver.

“Now when he comes back, he’ll know I won’t have much time…”

Yugyeom tightened his grip on her hand, not ready for the inevitable.

“Promise me something, Yugyeom.”

He looked into her steady gaze.

 

“You’re a young boy, so I want you to love him as long as you can dance. As beautiful and as passionate…and don’t let him blame himself. Okay, Gyeomie?”

 

He couldn’t break that promise if he _tried_.

After a few moments, Bambam slowly walked back into the room. The strength he had upon walking in, crumbling down in seconds.

“I’ll tell Yoongi to cancel tonight's show.” Bambam said, grabbing his mother’s hand.

His mother sounded off in protest.

“Don’t you _dare_ let down all of those people, Kunpimook. You _both_ are gonna give them the best show of this tour. _Momma_ said so.”

 

 

 

 

It happened right before the last show of the tour.

They were at Madison Square Garden when Yoongi got the call. Yugyeom and the rest of the dancers were looking at each other with tearful smiles, not even believing that they’d made it to MSG. It was supposed to be a happy day, but of course life didn’t swing that way.

 

_“No seriously, I swear I saw people outside with Kim Yugyeom posters!”_

 

Jimin’s hair was now a beautiful honey blond. Yoongi seemed to like his hair changes the most. He never left the little dancer rehearse without whisking him off somewhere. Good thing Jimin was a natural dancer and could pick up easily.

“Shut up, Minnie.” Yugyeom mumbled.

Ten threw his head back and laughed.

“He’s right, Yuggie. It’s time for to accept it – you’re a _star_.”

“Just don’t forget about us when you have your _own_ show at MSG, alright?” Youngjae came up behind Yugyeom, attacking him in a huge bear hug.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Eventually, Yoongi pulled him aside and told him the news.

He said they wanted _him_ to be the one to tell Bambam.

“Why me?”

Yoongi gave him a very tired, unentertained look in return.

“Okay, fine. If he lashes out at me it’s your fault.”

He took off to find Bambam, not seeing Yoongi shake his head and mumble about how much of an idiot he was.

 

 

Yugyeom stood in front of the door for a few moments, going through every possible way he could say this.

“Bambam-ah?”

He knocked 3 times as he always did.

“Bambam it’s me…”

Yugyeom couldn’t lie, his heart dropped to his ass.

Why did they make _him_ tell Bambam? Why not the other members of the band he knew way longer?

“It’s open.”

He didn’t need to tell him twice.

Yugyeom busted in, his breath caught in his throat as he watched Bambam sit cross-legged in front of the mirror. He had his peach robe on with black sky high stilettos, putting on his signature mauve pink lipstick.

Their eyes met in his reflection and felt the oxygen get kicked out of himlike it forgot to pay rent.

Off stage Bambam was just as alluring in his eyes.

“ _Those_ can’t be the heels your mother lost, can they?”

Bambam’s smile became 10,000 watts at the mention of his mother.

_Fuck, this was gonna be hard._

“No baby boy, she couldn’t handle these on her best day.”

“I don’t know,” he wrapped his arms around his lover, plating a kiss on his cheek. “Ms. Bhuwakul is a fierce woman.”

“ _Was._ She was.”

Yugyeom stiffened.

“The doctor called me this morning. I know the boys sent you here to tell me.”

Yugyeom felt his hands tremble as they grabbed for Bambam’s.

“W-Why aren’t you…”

“Why aren’t I crying like a bitch? I did all of that years ago, baby boy. Plus, I don’t cry with people in the room.” He fixed a fly away hair.

“Taehyung wouldn’t appreciate everyone seeing my eyeliner on my cheeks. Image is everything right?”

Bambam saw the lost look in his eyes, finally turning to face him.

“Bambam, I..”

He grabbed both sides of Yugyeom’s face when their lips connected. They were _so_ soft.

Yugyeom thought they felt like the fantasies he’d cast away from his mind when his mother asked him if he met any _nice girls_ in his classes.

He kissed him back even harder then, ignoring the salty tears fighting their way into their kiss.

“What is it, Gyeomie?” He quickly wiped at Yugyeom’s tears. There was an anticipation in his eyes that made his heart run a mile a minute.

Yugyeom swallowed, swearing he was seeing things at Bambam’s eyes starting to water.

If anyone asked, he’d probably blame the contacts.

Instantly, he remembered everything they went through. Things they said. Things they _didn’t_ say.

He didn’t want to regret.

But he also remembered Ms. Bhuwakul’s promise.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t say it.

 

Bambam took his hand in his. “Let’s get on stage, okay?”

 

 

 

Seeing Yugyeom on stage was something he knew he’d _never_ tire of. At this point, he didn’t know how people kept their eyes _off_ the boy.

How is it possible _not_ to want to know the tall talented beauty, with the smile that took over his entire being when he moved.

The smile that took over his life.

“I wanna slow it down a bit for you all. I want you to grab the person you love, or whoever’s closest to you…”

Yugyeom smiled when he felt one small hand grasp his hand and another one grab his right.

The small blonde looked up at him with tears in his eyes. 

“Last time we get to slay the stage together!”

“Stop acting like we’re dying, Park!” Ten yelled over the booming speakers, leaning into the two dancers.

Jimin squawked indignantly, “Don’t act like I didn’t hear you crying last night! _We’re losing our baby Yugyeomie!_ ”

“You guys aren’t losing anything, shut up.” Yugyeom said, bringing the two into a group hug. He would make sure of that.

“We have a Peeping Tom, guys.”

Jimin nodded towards the middle of the stage where Bambam’s smokey gaze was on them, an unreadable expression on his face.

Ten turned to Yugyeom, asking his signature _“What was that?”_ with a single eyebrow raise. All he could do was shrug. Jimin then pointed at Ten’s _boyfriend_ Johnny, who was also staring their way- but for a very _different_ reason.

Yugyeom and Jimin exchanged a look.

_“Disgusting.”_

Ten cursed them out in Thai.

 

 

 

It started to hit him during the ending stretch of the show.

In the middle of one of his speeches about not taking loved ones for granted, he had his mother in mind of course. But one particular memory from the back of his mind crept back up to haunt him. It was the most scared Bambam had ever been besides his mother's diagnosis.

He didn’t know if he’d ever get over it.

 

_“I told you stay the hell away from me, didn’t I?!”  
_

_He hated the way he still looked beautiful when his back was turned, ready to walk out on him._

_“Gyeomie, don’t do this–”  
_

_He grabbed his hand only to get it snatched from him just as quickly._

_“DON’T! Don’t you touch me!”_

_He was in nothing but his robe and some boxers he found on the floor when Yoongi called to let him know Yugyeom had packed his bags and called a taxi._

_“Where are you gonna go? Just wait– I’ll take you myself if I have to!”  
_

_He chuckled humorlessly._ _“How charming, I’ll pass, asshole.”_

_“You shouldn’t be out there alone in a city you don’t even know!”  
_

_“Who said I’d be alone?”_

_Bambam reared back like he’d been slapped._

_“Who the hell would you be with?”  
_

_“Stop acting like you care when you can get another one of me tomorrow. Use me and throw me away like you did your little Jungkookie right?”_

_“What the–Jungkook?! You don’t know everything, Yugyeom!”_

_“I don’t fucking care. Good luck on your tour, good luck on finding Gyeomie number two. Hope he’s smarter than I was.”_

He didn’t end up leaving for long. In fact, he came back the next morning, accompanied by Jimin and Ten as they got him onto the tour bus. He didn’t know how they convinced him to stay but he _did_ know he owed the two dancers for working a _miracle_.

He never saw Yugyeom so broken.

The thought of Yugyeom leaving him for good shook him to his core an left him restless some nights.

Seeing him laugh and enjoy the company of the other dancers made him feel irrational. He felt like one day, Yugyeom would realize Bambam wasn’t enough and he’d leave for someone better. The end of this tour was Yugyeom’s chance to do _just_ that.

And as everyone knows – Bambam just isn’t one for goodbyes.

“This tour has been amazing. _You_ have been amazing. I love you and see you soon! Goodnight everybody!”

He guessed he’d have to roll with the punches.

 

 

 

 

“You comin’ out with us, Yuggie? It’s our last night out!” Jimin twirled in the mirror, almost tripping over the 10 different pairs of jeans and shirts at his feet.

Ten perked up, bouncing over to his younger friend with a smile wider than a Cheshire cat.

“Yeah, you need to get out! You can get straight in, you _already_ look older than you are…”

Jimin gave him a once over. “Just don’t _speak_. Or smile. Or look at the bouncer too long. And wear that eyeliner–”

Yugyeom stomped his foot. “ _Jimiiin_..”

“And don’t whine like that. Bambam might like that shit but the police sure won– don’t THROW THINGS!”

 

When Yugyeom agreed, he sure as hell didn’t know _Us_ meant the entire dance and vocal line alone with Bambam’s infamous band members and the man himself. 

The bass thrummed through his veins as he took in his surroundings. Everyone was dressed to impress, even people he’d never seen before and some he’d only seen on TV. The lights were dimmed down to a blue glow, there was even a disco theme to the dance floor.

It all looked so…Bambam.

Jimin pulled him along, Yoongi in tow staring at his ass from behind. Of course.

“C’mon Yuggie, they’re bringing out the cake!”

“Cake?"

_Cake._

But it was really more like like: Strippers, Streamers… _and then Cake._

Bambam was sat in the middle of club like a king, he rented the whole place out for this once night. Inviting anyone and everyone he thought worthy, and anyone he just wanted to show off to. This wasn’t really Yugyeom’s scene, but the meaning of the night and the events prior had him glued to his spot.

Bambam swiped off some icing, wiping it onto Jackson’s nose with a giggle. It was cute.

Until Jackson started _sucking_ icing off of Bambam’s finger.

That earned him a slap on the back of the head from Mark, but Yugyeom was already pushing his way opposite of the festivities.

Fuck the cake.

He heard people, or someone, calling his name but he was already away from the vip section. He was kind of scared, not seeing anyone he knew anymore. But he did the only thing he knew how to do.

Dance.

People's eyes were glued to the younger boy, just the way he liked it. The excess number of bodies meant heat was kicked up 10 notches. He felt the sweat roll down the exposed chest of his silk blue blouse when he moved. His body had a mind of it’s own, paying no regard to the hungry gazes trained on him.

Until he felt a solid body behind him, gripping onto his waist.

Just what he _wanted_.

_“Tell me…is this the treasure Bambam has been holding onto?”_

“Are you trying to find out?” He growled, shocked at his own response. His hips boldly rocked back into strangers. A dangerous fire burned in his gut when he heard a responding groan in his ear.

“That’s enough of _that_.” was all he heard before the weight was gone and he was being tugged away by a familiar hand into the lower level club restrooms.

“You liked that didn’t you, Gyeomie?”

The gruff tone of his voice reverberated off of the walls.

“I was waiting for you.”

Bambam clenched his jaw, backing Yugyeom up until his back hit the cold wall, sending a shiver down his spine.

“That’s not what I _asked_.”

Yugyeom was already panting when Bambam attacked his pale neck with his mouth, sure to leave lipstick stains and bruises in it’s wake.

“What if I left you there…and let that _stranger_ do whatever he wanted to you, huh? Would you have liked that?”

He didn’t even give Yugyeom time to bullshit an answer when he undid the buttons of his shirt, trailing quick pecks over his chest. He felt himself trembling under the older’s touch.

“You love to play games, don’t you Gyeomie. _Why?_ ”

He trailed his finger over his jawline, down his chest, over his nipple. Yugyeom discovered moans were so much louder in public restrooms.

“I-I saw you and Jackson. _Again._ ” Hit bit out. He flipped their positions, rubbing his hand over the crotch of Bambam’s jeans. The answering moan made him smirk in satisfaction.

“You know I don’t like that.”

“I told you that was nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He knew that was the wrong thing to say when Bambam flipped them again, this time, pinning Yugyeom’s hands above his head. His lips ghosted over the younger’s, knowing he was torturing him the longer he went without kissing him. His long drawn out whine was the proof.

“How do I prove it to you, baby boy?”

“Kiss me first and I’ll show you.”

Their lips finally connected. Eager tongues and brief clashing teeth made Yugyeom moan so loud, _everyone_ had to knew what they were up to by now. When he said those exact words to the younger, he got out even louder-  _melodic_ even.

The younger could probably sing if he tried.

_“Show me.”_

As soon as Bambam released his hands, he ran them over Bambam’s exposed arms (thank God for the muscle tee) then pushed him down by his shoulders– sending him straight to his _knees_.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”'

Yugyeom shut him up, bringing Bambam’s face closer to his crotch. His hungry gaze made Bambam wanna come right then and there, but he had a job to do.

“Get to it, Bambam-ah.”

“Yes sir.”

He meant to undo Yugyeom’s belt but felt a hand grab his wrist before it even touched the Gucci buckle.

“With your _mouth._ ”

 

“ _Shit_.”

 

 

 

When the couple did eventually come back out of the bathroom, it made Bambam laugh.

Yugyeom blushed under the gazes of the club goers like he wasn’t just moaning to put on a show for the very same faces. Then he saw the restlessness in Yugyeom’s eyes, knowing the younger was over the event for the night.

He made a compromise.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.”

 

They were sprawled out on the floor of Bambam’s master suite, lying on top of Bambam’s blankets after 5 failed attempts at a blanket fort.

Yugyeom liked this scene much better.

“Rate the Chinese food in Manhattan from 1-10.”

“3 on authenticity. 7 in taste”

“Just a 7?”

“Any higher and Jackson would kill me.”

Bambam noticed Yugyeom go silent at the mention of his bandmate and sighed. Bambam often wondered if he held a grudge against him. He just never wanted to risk upsetting the younger by asking. He guessed now was as good of a time as any.

“Yugyeom…do you really hate Jackson?”

“ _No._ I just…you guys’ history. My experiences..” he rambled on, Bambam staring blankly at him.

Yugyeom huffed. “I want you to myself.”

“You _have_ me, Yugyeom. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.”

Yugyeom stood up and made his way to the bathroom, making Bambam follow him. He hated how vulnerable he got with this subject of what’s really going on between them both. Even Jimin and Ten tread it with caution with how he gets.

“You really don’t believe me, do you?”

Yugyeom scoffed.

“Don’t sound so _hurt_. How could you think–”

“Think _what_ , Yugyeom?! That you would trust me for once?!”

Yugyeom went silent, sensing the edge to Bambam’s voice.

“Can we not do this now?” He asked softly. He grabbed for Bambam but he backed away. A humorless chuckle escaped him that made Yugyeom’s heart plummet to the ground.

“And I actually had hope for a second. You’re free to go. The tour is done, right?”

“Woah, woah, _woah_ –”

“I was fine without my mom before and i’ll survive without you. I’m sure someone’s _itching_ to make you a star, huh?”

“Don’t do that, Bambam.”

“Hey, you already have the talent and exposure. All you need is an agent. I’ll even throw in some word around Hollywood. Get you some roles here and there…”

Bullshit. Bullshit. _Bullshit._

“Why are you _saying_ these things?!”

He tugged at his hair in frustration, not caring now pathetic and childish he looked.

“Don’t sound so _hurt_ , Yugyeom.”

He ignored the jab and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and locking it.

 

He knew Bambam was just lashing out.

He knew that.

But the the thought of him actually being _serious_ made an uninvited sob rip out of his body. Did he actually think these things?

That Yugyeom would up and leave him without the tour as leverage anymore?

What was he so _afraid_ of?

Pondering all of these different questions made him stay in the floor of the hotel’s fancy bathroom for longer than he intended. He pressed his ear against the door, listening ever so often to hear Bambam’s presence. All he heard was sniffling. After a long night and all of the stress they were under, he assumed the older was crying too.

He fell asleep in the same spot.

A few hours later, he finally unlocked the door and walked out of the bathroom. He back was sore and he needed a bed. 

He climbed into Bambam’s, cautiously curling his arms around the older’s middle. He planted kisses down the back of his neck to get his attention. He didn’t stir.

 

“Bambam-ah..” he spoke in his ear, rolling his eyes when he still got nothing.

This boy could sleep through the fucking apocalypse.

“I’ll just talk until you wake then,” he grabbed one of Bambam’s hands.

“I…” he mentally prepared himself. It was going to be hard to say when he was awake.

“I love you. I love you…i’m so _stupidly_ in love with you…”

He buried his head into the back of him, his trembling hands begging to be held.

“And I’m _sorry_. There. I said it. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. Happy now, Asshole? Now it’s your turn.”

He waited.

“Kunpimook, _seriously?_ ”

He shook him violently, climbing on top of him and pecking his cheeks. His head just lolled to the side.

He wasn’t going to panic. Not yet.

He turned on the lamp beside his bed.

There were _rows_ of white powder lined on the wooden night stand.

Okay, _now_ he was panicking.

 

“Bambam-ah?!”

 

He took his pulse, feeling _something_ but it was too weak.

His heart went into overdrive when he banged on Yoongi’s door, then the members, then anyone's. He didn’t even remember what he said, but all he knew is that he was screaming the same desperate cries over and over and _over_. He’d never been so crazed and terrified in his life. He was stuck in a nightmare.

 

_“He won’t wake up!”_

 

_“We have to help him!”_

 

_“Call the fucking ambulance!”  
_

 

The ambulance were called and they rushed Bambam to the nearest facility. It didn’t even take 10 minutes. Perks of being a superstar he guessed.

 

 

Everyone was awake by now.

It would only be a matter of time before the news found out.

Fuck, the _news._

“You need to eat, kid.”

Mark shut the TV off and dropped one of sandwiches from the hosiptal canteen on his lap. The rest of his bandmates were back at the canteens, leaving him alone with the eldest for the first time.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Yugyeom spoke up.

“W-Whatever happens, it’s my fault.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I didn’t come out in time. We fought– it was so _stupid._ I thought he was crying, fuck i’m so _stupid!”_

“No, Yugyeom. Bambam’s had this… _problem_ for a while. If it anyone’s fault it’s mine for not protecting him…” He shook his head, taking a deep breath.

“Blaming ourselves won’t change it. _Whatever_ it may be.”

Yugyeom looked at the drummer. They never spoke, but from what he saw out of Bambam, he really seemed to respect him. He didn’t forget Bambam's mom mentioning _his_ visits being some of the only ways she got news on her son.

Mark’s usually styled brown hair was disheveled, confident shoulders slumped.

He looked _exhausted_.

“Has..has this happened before?”

Mark cleared his throat.

“Not like this. Me or one of the others stopped him. But we knew one day..if he didn’t stop. Yeah.”

Mark crumpled an empty chip bag in his fist, staring down at the shiny hospital floors. Had he failed him?

 

“Family of Kunpimook Bhuwakul?”

 

“That’s our call, kid.” Mark mumbled, patting Yugyeom’s thigh before he stood to his feet. His bandmates all followed close behind.

“His mother died recently. It’s just us – his brothers. And his boyfriend, Yugyeom Kim.”

Yugyeom flushed and the doctor nodded before leading them to Bambam’s room. He looked between the 4 boys, seeing different shades of worry and sadness in their features.

The doctor looked at them all before speaking.

 

“We’ve stabilized him.”

 

5 of them let out a sigh, clapping each others shoulders in relief.

“Hell be alright?” one of the members, Jinyoung asked. His voice was rough from crying.

“He should be. We were lucky to catch him when we did. It was a close call.”

Yugyeom broke out in tears of relief when he saw Bambam lying there, almost comatose. His blonde hair was still styled, makeup smudged form the night before.

Only _he_ could manage to still look gorgeous.

Jackson looked at the worried younger, taking this moment to seriously speak to him.

“He’s harshest to the ones who are worth it, you know?” 

“Yeah, I heard.” Yugyeom responded weakly. He couldn’t find it in him to be mad at the older band member anymore. Tragedies really put shit in perspective in a way he didn’t understand.

JB cleared his throat before speaking. “We’re gonna get him the help. After this. I think he’ll be willing.”

“What about recording?” Yugyeom asked, knowing how strict his label was on him.

Mark sucked his teeth, “He recorded so much shit on the road, we can release 5 records and a mixtape before he wakes up.”

They all exchanged a laugh, knowing very well of his infamous writing and recording habits. Yugyeom smiled when he recalled feeling a tickling on his back at 6am, knowing it was Bambam writing lyrics he’d thought of in the moment.

Jinyoung nudged the younger, “Yoongi says you don’t take his calls?”

“What’s there to discuss?” Yugyeom responded, making the singers brows furrow.

“ _You._ Do you know how many people want you performing on their stages right now? On their shows? Magazines?”

“Remember our Rolling Stone spread? People wouldn’t stop talking about not only Bambam but you. You can’t _not_ know.”

Oh, he remembered.

 

 

_“Relax, Yugyeom! It’s a camera, not a gun!”  
_

_The photographer, named Kim Seokjin (looked more like a model than a photographer) shouted at the younger as he did their solo shots. Their group one went well with his friends beside him, but he stiffened on his own. He was still uncomfortable in front of the camera._

_“Think about something that relaxes you.”  
_

_Bambam was watching from behind the scenes, wanting to get up and relieve the stress in his boy’s body in more unorthodox ways than Jin was suggesting._

_Yugyeom looked stunning._

_He was only in a simple black top tucked into usual black high wasted jeans, but Bambam picked a Burgundy (it was the closest to red they had) leather jacket to rest over his soft shoulders that completed it. It was a week after Bambam gave him his solo spot on the set, and everyone was asking about him. These shots had to be amazing. He wouldnt accept anything less, so when Jin asked him to pull him aside – he couldn’t refuse._

_It was the first time he touched him._

_Bambam dragged him into one of rooms in the back of the studio, lifting him onto the sink._

_“What can I do to relax you?”  
_

_The younger shrugged, still too fragile over the current state of their relationship to request it verbally. Bambam smirked. He’d make him talk._

_“You don’t know?”  
_

_He shook his head, until he felt the feather light touch of Bambam fingers over his arms, leaving goosebumps in his wake._

_“Any ideas now?”  
_

_Yugyeom’s eyes darted around the cramped bathroom Bambam dragged him into, trying to find a point distract himself from begging for the older. He noticed his hands softly trailing up his thighs, Yugyeom’s breath picking up speed as he edged closer and closer._

_“M-More.”  
_

_Got em’._

_Bambam smirked. “More? Where, baby boy? Show me.”  
_

_Yugyeom nodded furiously, sliding his hand down over the crotch of his jeans, making his breath stutter when he rubbed over himself._

_The pleading in his eyes made Bambam want to ditch this whole photoshoot, but he knew he had to finish this quickly._

_”Slow down, Gyeomie.” He connected their lips for the first time, groaning when he felt Yugyeom’s legs wrap and tighten around his waist._

_“Bambam, please.” He whined into his neck, his warm breath against his skin.  
_

_He heard the unfinished request in his pleads._

_Finish the photoshoot…and I will. I promise.”  
_

_He tapped the boys legs to get him to release his vice grip and reluctantly led him back to the shooting._

_Yugyeom sent him daggers that could kill a man._

_"He's better already!"_

_Jin snapped photo after a photo, loving the vulnerability and desire Yugyeom portrayed. His head tipped back, his gaze nothing less than heavenly as he looked into the camera. The jacket hung delicately off of his shoulders._

_“Shit, what did you do? He’s a star.” Jin said in awe, still snapping photos of his boy like the rare artwork he was.  
_

_“Positive affirmation.”_

_And boy, did he fulfill his promise._

_Again and again after he was sent the individual framed Yugyeom photo to his dressing room. He’d made the younger reach his climax under his own face._

_Multiple times._

_“There’s nothing like watching yourself when you come, Gyeomie.”_

Yugyeom shrugged the memory off, hesitantly taking Bambam’s cold hand. Jackson sighed, realizing the issue.

“Whatever he might’ve said – _bullshit_. He wants you to rise. Ever since your audition, you’re all he ever talked about. Yugyeom should do _this_ , Yugyeom would be amazing in _that_.”

Yugyeom couldn’t lie. It felt good to hear that from Jackson of all people, all things considered.

JB hummed in agreement with the bassist. “Don’t fuck yourself over, kid. He’ll still be here as long as we are. You gotta chase your dreams while you’re young.”

Mark rolled his eyes, “He’s in love with him now, dumb asses. He would’ve said whatever so he stayed. Ya’ll know how Bambam is. He thinks the _world_ is out to get him– fucking drama queen.”

Everyone laughed while Yugyeom turned a bright red.

 

 

It was deathly quiet when the band members left, Bambam refusing to check out until they gave him and Yugyeom the alone time they needed.

Yugyeom had so much in his mind he wanted to say when Bambam woke up, but it’s like his entire mind went into overdrive and crashed on him when he opened his eyes again. Bambam thought it was more than fine, choosing the time of solidarity to admire his lover. The sunshine from the windows illuminated him, almost creating a halo effect. His mom was right. He was absolutely _beautiful_.

“Your fans wouldn’t stop singing the _Hard Carry_ record until security came and removed them. A lot slept overnight. They’re glad you’re okay.”

Bambam chuckled, patting the the youngers hand.

“They’re persistent, just like me.”

“No, _you’re_ just annoying.”

Yugyeom giggled at Bambam’s over the top gasp. He took a deep breath when he looked down at the older, realizing this is one of the only times he’s ever seen his real eye color. The words from his bandmates and Bambam’s mother were on the forefront of his brain.

“I thought I lost you…”

He chest squeezed, climbing into the way too spacious hospital bed (superstar perks) and laying his head into the older’s chest.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Bambam rubbed his hands over the small of his back. He felt the _love_ choke his lungs like nicotine.

They laid like that until he broke the silence.

“Are you going to see your family after this? Are they still that mad?”

He felt Yugyeom stiffen in his grasp, “They don’t wanna see me. They…I told them..about me. My sexuality.”

He ran his hands through his boy’s raven locks.

He didn’t know what to say.

Was it his fault? Were they not careful enough?

“Mom lost her mind, going on and on about that AIDS disease and how i’d die. Dad just didn’t want a homosexual son. Neither of them even cared about me lying to them after I said _that_.”

Bambam hummed. The AIDS epidemic was huge. One day, no one knew shit about it then the next day it was _everywhere_.

“Yugyeom, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t. I think i’ll stay in Manhattan for a while. I like it here.”

“What about your schooling?”

Yugyeom stared down at their intertwined hands.

“You know that day I auditioned? Those were the day of my mid terms. I was gonna fail the whole semester, no major, no nothing..”

Bambam prompted him to go on, genuinely curious.

“So I dropped out. And came to audition for you and chase my _real_ dream. Away from my parents, away from everything. I didn’t tell my friends, obviously not my parents..”

Bambam couldn’t stop himself from gasping. 

“How did you know I would even _pick_ you, Yugyeom?”

“I didn’t. But I just had a lot of hope I guess.”

Yugyeom laughed at the astonished expression on Bambam’s face when he looked down at him.

Yugyeom didn’t know how brave he was. He dropped everything for his dream. He knew there was fierceness behind him that day- a passion he couldn’t explain. Now he knows the reason behind it.

“My…’facility’ is in California. Supposed to be the _best_ , or some bullshit like that.”

Bambam kept the fear out of his voice. They’d be apart just like he feared he would. Like he _knew_ would happen eventually. He was ready now.

Yugyeom hugged him close. “We’ll call. I’ll fly, shit i’ll take a cab–”

“Don’t worry about me, Gyeomie.”

 

He wouldn’t hold him down any more.

 

 

**Winter 1986**

Calls every day, visits every month. It lasted a year.

Each time they reconnected, they saw something different in each other. The love was still palpable. It still choked his lungs like before, but it was different. The distance took it’s toll on the young couple.

Calls went from each day, to every other week.

Once a month.

Yugyeom was _busy_.  

Of course he was. He understood that.

Then, he’d call every couple months.

Once he’d gotten out of the center, he’d visit ‘anytime he was in town’. All that meant was sex.

Soon enough, maybe a few months after that. The visits…stopped.

Bambam started to smoke again.

The guys started to notice.

He didn’t care.

 

_“I love you, you know.”  
_

_“I love you, jerk.”  
_

_They both said it at once, bursting into laughter._

_Yugyeom straddled his hips, one of the facilities lollipops in his mouth. Not as good as his, but they were something._

_“I’m serious. I think they’ll even make a movie about us. We’re iconic.”  
_

_“You’re iconic.”  
_

_Bambam rolled his eyes, playing with Yugyeom’s hands in his._

_“So are you, Gyeomie. I didn’t bring you on that tour to just stand there and look pretty, you know?”  
_

_Yugyeom gasped playfully, “You didn’t?”  
_

_“No– I wanted you to ride me into the sunset.”_

_“That can be arranged, Bambam-ah.”_

 

**Autumn 1988**

_“How would you describe your relationship with Bambam?”_

_His name still sent a shiver down his spine. That would never stop._

_Yugyeom tightened his grip on his champagne glass, trying to focus on the pretty New York skylight at night._

_It was even prettier from his penthouse overlooking the city._

_“Indescribable?” he offered, turning to the interviewer– Kim Namjoon he thought it was._

_“Fair enough. Did he inspire you to take the offer to dance with Michael Jackson for a few dates on his BAD tour this coming August.”_

_Yugyeom chuckled. He still had champagne left from the surprise party his friends threw once they found out._

_“No, Michael actually asked me himself. It was at one of my shows. I nearly pissed myself when I saw him backstage. Who the hell would say no to Michael?”_

_Namjoon laughed. “You have a point, Mr. Kim.”_

 

After the interview wrapped, he sprawled out on his bed in exhaustion. Their were posters littering his walls, magazine photos, his own album covers. He looked into the reflection of himself on the ceiling. Bambam’s crude advice pushing his way into his mind every time he looked into it.

He heard his door open, his eyes never leaving the reflection when he saw another familiar body climb into his bed.

Yugyeom smiled.

“Bambam-ah, what did I say about knocking!?”

“I don’t remember. Feel free to tell me again so I can ignore it, though.”

“Brat. Leave your key on the bed when you leave.”

He slipped his fingers into the buttons of Yugyeom’s shirt. Releasing them one by one.

“Who said I was leaving?”

 

 

_Yugyeom felt guilty sweating under the custom made suit Taehyung designed for him tonight._

_He couldn’t help it. This was it. The moment he saw flashing in segments his dreams. The moment he worked non stop tirelessly for two years for._

_He felt two familiar small hands grasp his and he smiled._

 

**_“And the Grammy Award for Pop Album of The Year goes to..”_ **

 

_Of course he wouldn’t win but the fact he was nominated was enough. He just hoped whoever won-_

 

**_“Kim Yugyeom’s Turbulence!”_ **

 

_What?_

 

_Yugyeom’s whole body locked up when the camera fell on him._

 

_“Did they just say-”  
_

 

_Ten and Jimin yanked him up by his hands, ushering him towards the stage with huge smiles._

 

_“I um...shit. Oh fuck, can I curse?” The audience laughed at he flushed boy as he covered his mouth .  
_

_He looked down at the golden Grammy shining in his hands, emotions breaking through him like a dam._

_“Anyways, I want to thank my fans first. They waited on me for so long, they’re so beautiful and dedicated. I love you. Whoever played my record for Michael, I love you the most.”  
_

_He beamed when the crowd laughed again, Ten and Jimin giving him a thumbs up in the crowd._

_“I also really need to thank my best friends, Park Jimin and Ten. As you know, they also have their albums to work on, but dropped everything to help me with mine. They’ve always helped me. Also Choi Youngjae, helping me master my vocals and keeping a smile on my face. Jung Hoseok and Jeon Jungkook helping me create my set from the ground up.”  
_

_Everyone he mentioned was sitting in the audience, proud smiles on their faces as they cheered him on._

_“And last but obviously not least-- I don’t think hes here but..Bambam.” He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath._

_T_ _he roars of the crowd got even louder. The ~ooh’s and ah’s at his mention of Bambam making him flush.  
_

_“He took a chance on a college drop out who didn’t know anything but dancing and busing dishes. I’ll forever be thankful to him and..yeah. Thank you everyone, Good night.”  
_

_That night, his friends had a huge surprise bash waiting for him as soon as he got home._

_About halfway through, he snuck up his room to change but he saw someone - Bambam - pacing around his room with a bouquet of flowers and a new head of black hair._

 

_He hadn’t seen him in almost two years._

 

_“I-I was supposed to come down and..congratulations Gyeomie.”  
_

 

_They didn’t come downstairs for the rest of the night._

 

To say he was shocked was an understatement. Since then, past the initial awkwardness of their time apart, it was like he was that 19 year old red head again.

“I see you took my advice, huh Gyeomie?”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes. It could’ve been about the ceiling mirror. Maybe about furthering his career when he stayed in Manhattan. He didn’t know.

“ _Don’t_ ruin the moment.”

The navy haired man giggled, crashing him and Yugyeom’s lips together. He would _always_ be weak for him– everybody knew it. 

Bambam had been in Thailand doing promotions for his new movie when his leading lady, _Lisa Manoban_ convinced ** _(read: forced)_ ** him to fly down in time for the Grammy’s to see Yugyeom and _“get his man back”_.

Of course, he owed her big time when it worked.

“I just wanna stay here forever.” Yugyeom mumbled, curling tighter into the older when he thought about his schedule.

 _Both_ of them were still busier than ever.

Bambam planted a kiss on Yugyeom’s fourth finger.

“Well, that’s the point right?"

He owed his bandmates even _more_ for distracting Yugyeom long enough to pick up the pure gold rings that shone on both of their fingers. 

Bambam thought it was clever when he placed Yugyeom’s engagement ring in one of his red lollipops.

 

_“Bam--I could’ve fucking choked to death!”  
_

_“Is that a yes?”  
_

_Yugyeom turned to him like he’d grown a second head._

_“Of course it is, asshole!”_

 

Basically, Bambam owed people a lot of favors.

But when Yugyeom looked up at him like he hung the moon and stars, he realized something very important.

 

He had _forever_ to fulfill them.


	2. Don't Dream (It's Over)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring of 1984.
> 
> 19 year old Jeon Jungkook ran away from home to seize his chance to perform on the biggest stages in the world. 
> 
> What happens when you make the mistake of falling in love with something (and someone) much bigger than yourself?
> 
> “I was gonna pick you, anyway. I just love seeing pretty little sheltered things like you work for it.”
> 
> \- prequel to Don't You (Forget About Me) set one year earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Jungkook's journey as Bam's past lover/infatuation on tour before Yugyeom came along. The timelines do collide so I recommend reading Yugbam's if you haven't already to get a better feel of the universe I created. That being said, let's go!

 

There was something about  _lights_ that always attracted Jungkook.

 

He always found himself chasing them.

Whether artificial or neon, coming from signs above clubs, jukeboxes in burger joints—or his favorite, a person. But, not just any kind of person.

An _iridescent_ person.

You know the type. People you know are just born to  _be_   _something_  by the way they capture a room.

 

_"Wanna come back with us?”_

 

Winter of 1985.

 

He thought it was all over, that he’d put it all behind him.

 

_“Sure… yeah, sure, let’s go.”_

 

He was prey to those types. The universe just bends to their will, and everyone falls over their feet to just be  _near._ The type Jungkook always wanted to be.

The type he wished people told him he was anytime a jam came on that he knew the moves to and just  _let go._

_Pure star quality. The ‘It’ factor._

And maybe,that ‘it’ he found himself chasing and the hunger for  _more_ were the architects of his story.

Lights aren’t forever. They have to burn out some time.

 

_“Gukkie…”_

_Jungkook went frigid as the snowfall outside the venue, turning around at the soft voice that echoed across the room. His whole body trembled. This wasn’t how he wanted to break the news._

_It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. Nothing was supposed to be this way._

_“I’m—I can explain, I..”_  

_He looked a mess now. Mascara trailing down his cheeks, hair disheveled, clothing and makeup, broken records strewn about all over the floor._

_A tube of red lipstick was pushed into his palm._

_“You don’t have to tell me anything, Guk.”_

 

But like the persistent moth, Jeon Jungkook would chase it ‘till the end.

 

 

 

-

 

 

**_Winter of 1984._ **

 

Bambam became that light for Jungkook early on.

 

He’d idolized his artistry, his beautiful records, the way he  _commanded_ a stage. Every year he’d beg and beg his mother to let him go to his dance auditions, listening to her when she told him it wasn’t ‘right’ for him. She had a point back then.

The star  _was_ known to be reckless with everything; he challenged peoples core beliefs just by walking out the door. His mother thought the man would ruin Jungkook’s image, his reputation, everything he was working towards.

 _‘She just wants what’s best for me’,_ Jungkook thought.

This year was different. She’d ditched the entire damn  _dream_ when his father left her for another woman.

Where she once was supportive, maybe a bit abrasive on support, was now  _“Jungkook, please.”,_ and noveltyrants about having to get realistic, picking an ‘actual’ career and focusing on school.

That was kind of hard when he was enrolled in a coveted performing arts academy for the very thing she was ranting against.

But not to worry, because soon, he wouldn’t even have  _that._

When his father, the primary breadwinner, left, so did most of their income. That put things like  _private school tuition_ in the red, only leaving them enough to get by.

It tore into his ego, that bullshit.

He’d worked his ass off for  _years_ to get into the school—had the bruises and injuries to prove it. The lack of friends and a proper social life, trapped in dance studios torturing himself everyday for weeks. Jungkook paid his dues.

And now, ‘cause of life and it’s fucked up sense of humor, it was all being taken from him faster than he could handle.

 

It all started during his last week at the Renaissance Academy of Performing Arts.

 

He’d just came from the dean’s office where a group of administrators “regretfully” told him his enrollment to the school was being revoked by the end of the week over finances and there was nothing he could do about it.

From there he (humbly, in his opinion) thanked the dean for her time, only letting the first sob rip when he was at the end of the hallway. 

_“Damn it!”_

Jungkook slammed his fist into one of the lockers, feeling his fingers sting as the first tears ascended his cheeks. The tantrum he’d wanted to throw was  _itching_ to release itself from confines of his chest.

_Couldn’t he keep it in his pants for a few more years? At least until graduation? When he had a guaranteed spot on Broadway first and wasn’t flat broke?_

Jungkook held that same anger inside of him during his last dance evaluation.

He was performing one of the routines he knew like the back of his hand, only now with a new tinge of anger punctuating every step. He was so  _clouded_ with emotion that when the grand jete came up that he’d practiced time and time again, like a fucking rookie, he wasn’t at all prepared.

His ankle rolled on the come-down, tumbling straight down to the floor.

 

“This is a sign.”

 

Jungkook watched as the nurse wrapped his ankle, icing it with a cold pack.

“You know… I swore I saw people  _grinning_ when I fell. Probably wishing on the  _stars_ for this day.”

He laid back onto the cold bedding, gulping down a lump in his throat. He continued rambling, paying no mind to the nurse who probably  _didn’t_ get paid enough to be a part time shrink.

“I’m out of money, so they’re kicking me out. Dean told me this morning. Then  _this_ shit happens?” He pressed his hands to his eyes, willing the tears back in his skull.

“I mean, I get it now. This is God’s sick way of telling me to give it up already, huh?”

The nurse looked up from his ankle, pinching him on his calf to get his attention.

“Ow!  _Hey!”_

“Don’t you talk like that in here, Jeon.” She said, shaking her head from side to side as the boy stared at her in shock. “You’re only nineteen. Your life isn’t over.”

She got up from where she sat, Jungkook gulping as she sat on the other end of the bed, looking over at him with pensive eyes.

It was only then he realized that he’s been in here more times than he could count, with this same nurse, dressing the  _same_ old injuries time and time again.

She knew him better than anyone else in there.

“You gotta get back up, Jungkook.” She continued, voice low but firm. “You’re not entitled to a thing in this life, and all the students who worked their asses off to be here know that.  _Especially_ you.”

When he left the school that day, it felt like the weight of the world was at his shoulders.

All of the dread, the anxiety, the  _pain_ —he didn’t wanna go home and he definitely didn’t wanna be  _there_ any longer.

He walked (limped) down the street, sunny skies and warm breeze contrasting heavily with the storm he felt inside.

His shoulders were hunched as he hobbled through the crowd, making himself as small as possible. He just had to make it to the bus stop. Take the hour ride back to Norcal. Back home.

But damn, it really wasn’t his day because he couldn’t even do  _that_.

Jungkook clutched his stomach, darting into an alleyway a few feet away and retching on the floor before he knew it.

 

_“What if I can’t? What if I can’t take failure—what if I don’t want to get back up?”_

_The nurse sighed, “Then you aren’t made for this. It isn’t for you.”_

_Jungkook blanched, gripping at the sheets with his fist._

_“I-I don’t have anything else! I can’t…this is all I have left, all I know—“_

_“Then, Jungkook,” she gave him a sincere smile. “You’ll always find a way. No matter what.”_

 

The brunette opened his eyes, and just then, a flash of neon green flashed across his peripheral. He leaned off of the wall, scanning the area for the source when he saw a piece of green paper sliding across the ground a few feet away. Probably some flyer.

It was so bright, though. His curiosity and love of colors got the best of him. He stepped on it before it floated away.

“Oh,  _shit.”_

It was a flyer. And not just  _any_ flyer.

 

**_ATTENTION ALL DANCERS IN THE LOS ANGELES AREA!_ **

**_WE’RE LOOKING FOR THE BEST TO SUPPORT BAMBAM ON HIS HARD CARRY WORLD TOUR._ **

**_AUDITIONS FROM 8AM TO 5PM THIS FRIDAY AT ORPHEUM THEATRE!_ **

 

Jungkook dropped to his knees in the alleyway, a cacophony of laughter and cries escaping his mouth. He gripped the flyer in his trembling hands like he was afraid it would materialize into thin air.

Friday was his last day at the academy.

The very  _same day_ as the thing he’d been wanting to do the most for years now.

Fate had a funny way of working, didn't it?

 

 

-

 

 

Patience.

 

To Jungkook, that was a very foreign concept.

Since he was a child, he was used to things coming promptly in a timely manner—food, toys, money for dance studio memberships.

As he grew, there was only  _one_ thing he remembered having to fight tooth and nail for.

His parents  _attention._

There was no question when he’d starting clearing his school locker out the very next day. Ending his premature enrollment on a Wednesday, dedicating the next two days to practicing nonstop for his audition on friday.  He was on a crunch for time, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

He snuck into the school earlier than opening and later than closing, maxing out the use of the dance studio before he had to take off to LA.

Jungkook had no idea what to expect, what to prepare—the flyer didn’t disclose much. But he wasn’t going to lose. He had to be  _ready._

And Friday had come in a blink.

He was in his room, shirtless and sprawled out on his bed. The air conditioner in his room was broken, and he stared at the slow whirring of the ceiling fan.

His analog clock said he had an hour to get to the bus station.

Jungkook sighed, feeling the excitement and worry duel in his chest.

His television was stuck on MTV indefinitely—remote lost under the bed somewhere and that was just  _a-okay._

Soon, he’d be a worldwide famous dancer for his favorite pop star and petty shit like lost remotes and broken aircons would be a thing of the past.

For now, all he had was a duffle bag packed, cash for grub and bus fare. He left the rest up to God.

“Jungkook, what are you doing, sweetie? What’s this bag for?”

The brunette opened one eye, peeping at his mom as she barged into his room unannounced. She stared at the duffle bag, eyeing the haphazard state of his room with disgust.

“Mom, can’t you knock once?”

 _This_ was one of those situations he left up to God.

“Explain. Right now.”

She rose her brows, waiting for her son to obey and spill the beans. Or, like he normally would, just lie and say he’s staying at a friend’s.

Sure, Jungkook did try that lie in the past.

Times are different now.

When he passes this audition and is traveling the world with Bambam, he sure won’t be back by curfew tomorrow—he won’t be back for months, maybe a year and some change.

There was no point in lying. Not anymore.

But before he could open his mouth and give her the truth for once, she spotted the bright green flyer carelessly strewn on the floor beside his desk.

His chest filled with  _real_ dread when she read over the paper, flinching like she hit him at the sound of her balling it up and throwing it in the trash.

“You’ll never stop with this shit, will you? No matter  _what_ I say. I told you it was over.”

Jungkook swallowed, tears stinging his eyes at the sound of her anger. He’d never get used to that.

“Mom—“

“No.”

“Can you just listen to me!“

“Jungkook, I said  _no!”_

Then he decided he couldn’t  _stand_ it anymore.

He was sick, sick of  _her_ dictating what was good for  _him._

Jungkook sat up on his bed, slowly standing up while his mom stalked his every move. She no doubt saw the slight limp from his ankle.

He pulled a shirt out of his drawer, slipping it over his head. He moved to the closet, grabbing his favorite jean jacket.

“Talked to the dean again today. They told me you denied the payment plan at the school.” His back was turned.

“You didn’t even  _try_ for me, did you?”

45 minutes until the bus came.

His mother scoffed. “I don’t have to answer your questions. Unpack this bag. I’m calling your father about this.”

 _Father._ A humorless laugh escaped him that made his mother’s eyes widen.

“I don’t care what you  _or dad_ have to say anymore. Clearly you don’t give a fuck about my opinion, and he didn’t give a fuck about yours so,” He picked up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

_“Jeon Jungkook, you get back here right now!”_

He shook her off when her dainty hands grabbed after him, following his swift steps down the stairs, almost slipping herself.

“It’s just  _one_   _audition!”_ Jungkook fumed, hearing his voice crack in the way he hated.

“What, mom?! Are you scared I’ll actually  _make_  something of myself and leave you like dad did?”

As soon as it left his mouth, seemed like the entire world froze. He didn’t even make to shield himself when she slapped him right in the face.

Jungkook knew it was coming, knew it was wrong—he couldn’t take it back now.

“I can’t  _believe_ you right now, I-”

She pursed her lips, entire body trembling with fury and something unidentifiable. The eyes of of their family portraits and baby photos followed him to the front door.

Coincidentally, the photo of his father and him at his first dance recital when he was five was right beside it.

“If you leave… if you leave  _that’s it!_ You c-can’t come back. I won’t help you, I won’t support any of this. That’ll be  _it,_ Jungkook.”

He sharply turned around, mouth hanging open.

She looked satisfied for a moment under all the hurt. Believing she still had him under his thumb like she used to, with all her might.

Maybe by taking his dream away, she had one thing in her life she  _could_ control.

But boy… she thought  _wrong._

Her son gave her one last look before he walked out of that door. That was more than her husband had left her with.

“Love you, eomma.”

 

Thirty-three minutes.

 

 

 

-

 

 

Jungkook was  _late._

 

The bus broke down and delaying the route for thirty minutes more than it fucking should have. He cursed the sky, thinking that _damn,_  the universe really just didn’t like him, huh.

He lost his education, his family, and now his one shot?

_Fuck that._

The passengers stared when he got up from his seat.

He ran the rest of the way.

This was his fault, he supposed. Deciding to leave the house later, not wanting to be the first and forgotten—not wanting to be last and have Bambam too tired to see him.

He clearly fucked that—squeezed himself into the theater around 4:30.

 

_“Hey, are auditions still going?”_

 

_“Barely. They’re about to wrap up.”_

 

_“Good. Then they’re not over yet.”_

 

 

 

 

 

Bambam and his band were going over their options, talking amongst each other when the sound of the double doors opening alerted them to the entrance.

 

“What the  _hell?”_ Jaebum muttered, looking at a disheveled kid busting through the door like he ran 50 miles to get here.

Shit, he might  _have_ with how sweaty he looked.

Jackson cackled at Jinyoung’s irritated face, turning to Mark who just slapped his arm for being obnoxious.

Bambam just stared and blinked.

The brunette dropped an expensive duffle on one of the seats, stepping onto the stage like he caused no kind of disturbance.

“Oh, he’s  _bold._ I like ‘em.” Jackson whispered, earning an eyeroll from Jinyoung who narrowed his eyes at the boy.

“You just think he’s pretty, don’t you?”

“Let’s see if there’s some talent to match that angel face then, huh?” Bambam lit a cigarette as the last boy of the day began some simple stretches.

_Damn._

He sat up straighter, internally whistling at the sight of his toned thighs, admiring the lean muscular build he had. This was definitely a dancer, alright. One who hit the gym  _very_ often.

He glanced down at the application Yoongi gruffly passed him a few moments later.

Nineteen years old. 

After a moment, Jungkook finally spoke.

 

“Sorry for being late everyone. I hope you’ll still see me.”

 

Jungkook bowed shortly to judges as the stage lights shone bright over his head, making his wavy hair shine.

 

_Whenever you’re ready, pretty boy.”_

 

The star smirked when Jungkook made eye contact, cueing the music in with a hand in the air.

The first seconds of the song started, and the familiar strings of the track filled the theater. The band members perked up, murmuring in surprise at the somber choice.

By no means was the artist an untapped selection, not by a long shot—but the track and genre of dance  _definitely_ were.

_She’s Out of My Life._

Jungkook started his routine, the shocked mumbling of the five men fading as he let the lyrics carry him.

His thoughts were rampant, a mixture of  _5-6-7-8_ and ‘ _what if Bambam thought ill of me for coming in so late?’_

He’d pushed the thoughts away, or at least he tried, but the pressure started to build, build,  _up and up_ —he only then, smack dab in the thick of it, realized just  _how much_ he risked.

His schooling was gone, he left without saying anything to his friends (wasn’t like anyone at that school were really close to him anyway), his mother basically  _disowned_ him—

Shit. Wrong thought.

He missed a cue.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

Jungkook clenched his jaw, carrying on into the next eight count.  _Stop fucking it up, Jungkook! Two minutes left._

Really, he should’ve known the his chances were shot to shit, but he kept going, even if he stumbled.

_‘I told you it was over.’_

The boy started to panic, his stomach was twisting and turning, making him almost gag on stage.  _Fuck, only 50 seconds! C’mon!_

He’d given it all he had.

_‘If you leave that’s it! You can’t come back.’_

But that wasn’t enough.

When he set himself up to go for his leap - just like evaluations - he’d forgotten all about the alternative move he made up, it was too late being mid air—

Jungkook landed  _right_ on his ankle.

The pain shot up his foot into his calf, making his knee buckle from under him.

20 seconds.

 

_“Stop.”_

 

Bambam raised his hand and the music came to a halt.

Jungkook’s heart slammed in his chest, watching the men watch him, unable to read their faces.

 

_“What do you guys think?”_

 

_“Good. Could’ve been better, rough at some points.”_

 

 _“What_ —I wasn’t—“ Jungkook gulped, hissing through his teeth as he held his ankle. “I-I wasn’t even  _done!”_

Bambam dragged his eyes up Jungkook’s pitiful figure, how he was gripping his ankle for dear life. He sighed, telling Yoongi to make sure he saw the medic.

Jaebum leaned forwards, pointing his pen at the boy.

“That bum ankle says you  _are_ done, though. You need to stop before you tear somethin’ important and can’t ever dance  _again.”_

Mark hummed an agreement, “Yikes... he’s right. That was pretty reckless. Jeon Jungkook,right? Korean?”

“Don’t fucking  _cry._  Jesus.” Bambam groaned, watching tears well up in Jungkook’s eyes.

They didn’t even make a decision and he was already starting the waterworks.

Jinyoung leaned his head on his hands, playful smile at his lips when he saw what the others were doing.

“C’mon, take a chill pill. You’re pretty hot and you live in LA? You’ll be able to hook  _something_. If you don't get lost in the millions of other boys wanting a shot. You're young. You could always go back home."

Jackson shook his head at the others antics, watching the boy unravel before his eyes. He looked  _mortified_  at the mention of home.

“Stop playing with him, guys.  _I_ thought the choice of song was great. You dance well despite the hiccups.”

Jungkook took in a shaky breath, peeking at Bambam’s posse before he spoke.

“Thank you. I've been dancing since I was five…. so, fourteen years?”

 _“Wow.”_ Jackson nodded, impressed. The rest just looked over at Bambam.

The man chuckled, feeling exhaustion seep through his being at the sight of this kid.

“Fourteen years and you’re crying at a bit of criticism? You’re almost a  _professional.”_

Jungkook froze.

“You wrote here you attended these prestigious schools—never asked by the way,” Bambam rolled his contact covered eyes, “You had all the best training all your life. You  _do_ realize how privileged you are compared to the average dancer walkin’ in here, right?”

Jungkook furrowed his brows, not liking where this was going at all.

“What… what are you saying?”

The band cringed, knowing that was the wrong response.

“Guys, what am I  _saying?"_

Bambam leaned back in his chair, throwing papers up into the air. He cackled, leaning forward towards Jungkook. The star decided to play with this one a little.

Truthfully, he thought the dance was good, messily executed, but the technique was there. He  _clearly_ had tangible stage presence—more than most he’d seen today.

Bambam, well… he just wanted to see how bad the boy  _really_ wanted it.

“I’m  _saying_ you’re sittin’ here about to cry like a toddler ‘cause we’re not kissing the ground you walk on and handing you shit on a platter, Jeon Jungkook. Is that not what’s happening?”

“No- I didn’t—“

“Didn’t even  _care_ to show up on time, but hey,  _fourteen years and accolades,_ right?”

Jungkook was at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing around nothing as he stared at the five men.

He hated how gorgeousBambam was, even while sitting there scrutinizing his entire life like he lived it. He couldn’t find anything to say back, it caught him that off guard. He was never an expert at defending himself.

Everything  _about_ Bambam, from his appearance to the words coming out of this mouth...

He couldn’t have predicted it if he tried.

“Please, this—that’s not even  _fair!”_

 _“Life’s_   _not fair!”_  Bambam shouted back mockingly, standing to his feet with the band following suit. Panic scratched at this throat.

They were done with him.

“You’ll survive, pretty boy. Try again next time and don’t perform on injuries. You’ll actually execute it properly.” Bambam kept his eyes on him a little longer before turning away. “Let’s go, guys.”

“Wait! C’mon,  _wait!”_

Jungkook yelled after them, the humiliation at the entire ordeal made him desperate. He tried to stand, hissing when he put the weight on his injured foot.

He heard the footsteps coming, felt a hand on his shoulder but he didn’t turn around. He felt paralyzed.

“Kid.”

Jungkook blew it.

He risked everything and  _still_ blew it.

“Kid, come on, I don’t got all day.”

He turned to the voice, coming face to face with a mint-haired man with the ghost of a scowl on his face (something he’d soon find out was actually neutral).

Jungkook sighed.

Great.  _More_ people to judge him and make him feel like shit.

“Fuckin’ medic left.” The short man grumbled. “I’ll take a look at it before you go.”

Jungkook looked from where he was crouched down, taking the hand that was outstretched for him.

“...Who’re you?”

“Bambam’s waterboy.” The man answered curtly.

Jungkook didn’t know how to respond to the sarcasm. Or  _anything_ at the moment.

“Better known as Yoongi. Let’s go, kid.”

 

 

 

 

 

Jungkook didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

 

Yoongi had put a new wrap over his ankle, tying a bit too tight, making him grimace when he told him to try to put some weight on it. This guy was definitely no medic.

“Alright, should be good to go now. Keep off it for a few days and it should heal, I guess.”

He  _guessed?_

Jungkook‘s empty chuckle echoed as stared at the dirty tile of the cramped bathroom's floor.

_Where was he even going to stay tonight?_

Should he go back home, beg his mother, tell her didn’t mean it?

_Hell no._

Not after the shit he said. Honestly, he didn’t  _wanna_ go back. And what about Dad… what would he do if he heard? Would he even care?

“Don’t take it personally… but you look way rougher than Bam pegged you for in there.”

Jungkook snapped out of his trance, staring into Yoongi’s black, coal eyes. He didn’t confirm or deny. He didn’t want to provide more ammunition for anyone.

Yoongi continued talking, starting to pack his tools back into the first aid kit. He got to know his way around one real good dealing with  _this_ band.

“That bag you got is heavy as shit, kid? Stayin’ in town?”

“I dunno,” Jungkook stood to his feet as he walked up to the mirror. Hair sticking up all weird in places, sweaty everywhere, dark shadows under his eyes.

Damn. He really  _did_ look rough.

“I’ll find something. Thanks… for this.”

Yoongi nodded, bidding him good luck before heading out. There was only a split second of thought when boy called him back. His heart was beating out of his chest. He had one last chance.

“Uh, Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

Jungkook swallowed.

“You think… you think you could tell me where his dressing room is? Bambam’s? I-I wanna speak to him.”

The manager groaned, looking at Jungkook without any of the tenderness that barely flickered there before. He probably thought the boy was some creep now.

 _“Hell_ nah. A no is a  _no._ You don’t need to go chasing up behind him. It’s too late.”

“He didn’t even give me a chance!“

“Goodnight, kid.”

 

 

 

 

 

Jungkook didn’t have a lot of money on him after booking a room.

He had maybe a hundred saved up from a past allowance, which was going down and down the longer time went on.

His father sent him money and gave it straight to his mom, but he wouldn’t be there to collect it this time.

There was a motel a few blocks away he walked to that thankfully didn’t ask too many questions, and he scored himself somewhere to stay for the night.

He stood outside of the place, forced himself to go in for about 20 minutes. Embarrassing, but Jungkook had managed, voice trembling, stuttering and all.

He could tell the receptionist was way too tired at the end of the exchange to even press him for what  _time_ it was, let alone his age.

This was the first time he’d ever been alone without his parents knowing every move he made. Part of him felt exhilarated, while the other was scared to death and wanted to dial them at the next payphone.

Room 225.

Jungkook unlocked the door, scrunching his face up as he looked inside.

Of course, the room wasn’t all that great for 60 bucks in LA.

The bed was kind of hard, had this god-awful yellow comforter over it, carpeting was even worse. The only reason he chose this place was because he knew his mother would have a heart attack if she knew he was staying here.

That, and they had the prettiest neon signs: Bright blue and pink, shaped like a flamingo, just  _begging_ him to check in.

After a quick shower and changing into something more casual than his dance gear, he flopped onto the hard bed. He found the remote, beating the back of it in his hand a few times before he gave up.

“Ugh..."

He got up, crouching down and pressing the on button on the tv.

Of courseit was on MTV.

Jungkook shrugged, sitting back down to watch what videos were on.

That song by Flock of Seagulls he always loved was going off, he hummed the remainder and shuffled onto the bed, placing his hands behind his head to relax.

That was exactly when a  _familiar,_ heavily made up face appeared on his screen, dancing against a white background.

“Are they fucking serious?”

 _Hard Carry_ by Bambam.

Sick, sick,  _irony._

Jungkook sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes back into his head. There was a time when he’d play this record over and over, irritating everyone in his house with how much he loved it.

Now, it just reminded him of humiliation and failure.

Yet when he stared at the screen, he found himself mesmerizedagainst his own will by the visuals.

How was it that Bambam was playful and seductive at once? He was dressed in feathers and lipgloss  _still_ looking badass.

He paid attention to the band’s solo shots in the video, appreciating their talent, their beauty individually. Even the dancers. It was like Bambam created his own radass world that everyone else was just  _living in._

Jungkook huffed.

 _He_ could’ve been apart of that—now he didn’t even know where he was gonna sleep tomorrow.

“Okay,  _that’s_ enough.”

Jungkook got up and shut the tv off, and slipping on his boots before taking off from the room.

Now was a perfect time to keep himself busy and find some dinner before he starved to death.

 

 

 

Jungkook found himself at an in-n-out joint along the nighttime bustle of downtown LA, almost missed it with how distracted he was with the lively, bright, atmosphere of the city.

He sat down, dipping his fries in his shake when he spotted someone picking up a huge order for way more than one.

Jungkook choked on a fry.

That mint hair was unmistakable no matter  _where_ he went.

It was  _Yoongi._

Jungkook hid his face in his hoodie when the man turned around, darting out of the restaurant to follow him without thinking twice. He had to be taking all that food to Bambam and the band—this was another shot!

But damn, he felt like he truly hit rock bottom, stalking a pop stars manager to get to his client that hates him—but, like it was contaminating the LA air, Jungkook started giving less of a fuck about what people thought.

Yoongi had just walked into The Four Seasons.

Jungkook groaned, leaning against a pole on the sidewalk. How the hell was he going to swing this? Flamingo Motel and The Four Seasons were two different  _planets._

He slipped his hoodie off, smoothing his hair down in a shops window before crossing the street.

_You gotta keep getting back up, Jungkook._

He let out a deep breath as he stepped into the lobby, dazed by the shiny marble floors, white plants and chandeliers.

He nodded awkwardly to the two doormen that led him in, rolling his shoulders back as he approached the concierge desk.

“Good evening sir, welcome to The Four Seasons…” she briefly looked him up and down, noting his attire. Couldn’t blame her.

“How can I assist you?”

Jungkook gulped, not having thought this far.

“Sir?”

“I- Well… I’m actually looking for someone who’s checked in here recently.”

She rose her perfectly plucked brows, grabbing for the phone.

 _“Oh_ —are they your guardian, honey? Have a room number I can call?”

“No, ma’am.” Jungkook shook his head, searching his mind for something that sounds plausible.

“His name is ...Yoongi. Short, green hair, carrying a lot of burgers. Seen him around?”

She narrowed her eyes, this time dialing something quickly on the telephone. Jungkook panicked, putting his hands in front of him. He had to think quickly.

“No, wait! Don’t call security, ma’am please. I’m… i’m his new assistant! Like, an intern sort of thing? He told me to meet him for an assignment and—“

I’m the middle of his rambling, he hears the ding of one of the elevators.

“Oh wow, there he is—thank you for the help!” He rushed away from the desk, ignoring her calling back out for him.

Yoongi must have spotted him when he bolted, because now his face was angry (angrier-looking than usual) and he was walking right up to him.

“You better have a room here or else I’m  _seriously_ considering callin’ security on you. Isn’t your ankle sprained—how the hell are you even runnin’ around like this?”

Jungkook gulped, about to spill his guts and beg when Yoongi just sighed. He walked towards the doors, motioning for the younger to follow.

They were outside now, walking side by side together down the block.

“Look, just… tell me why you’re doing this shit, kid. What do you expect from him?”

With the question presented so clear and in his face—it dawned on Jungkook that there was no  _logical_ reason, really.

Nothing past his emotions. His own problems that had nothing to do with anyone but him. His ego.

Maybe he  _was_ entitled. But he;d take that over being back home after all of this.

Seeing the kid was at a loss for words, Yoongi asked another question.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” He shook his head, stuffing his hand in the pockets of his expensive tracksuit. “No matter what I do, you’ll just find a way, right?”

It reminded him of his mom when she ‘asked’ him the reason he was so hellbent on dancing.

“I don’t know why. I know that’s like,  _stupid,_ but… I just feel like I have to.”

Jungkook weakly shrugged, crossing his arms around the front of his body. They walked in silence for a few moments before Yoongi stopped, face illuminated under a street light.

“Club London.”

“What?”

“He’s partying there tonight.” Yoongi said, looking off down the street. “We’re in LA for one more day. We split tomorrow.”

 _Club London,_ huh.

The brunette’s heart raced in chest. He  _swore_ he’d walked past the club earlier to get to his audition but he wasn’t sure.

“If you’re serious… I’ll take you there now, get you in, all that.”

Jungkook absolutely  _lit up_ as Yoongi continued walking, looking his outfit up and down with disdain just like the concierge.

Geez, since  _when_ could you go wrong with a white tee and jeans?

“Okay,  _what_ the hell is wrong with my outfit?”

“It ain’t gonna work, kid. You need to look the part and levi’s and hanes ain’t it. How about changing before we go… a bit of eye makeup should help too. Where you stayin’?”

Jungkook looked down at his favorite t-shirt and jeans, frowning to himself.

“Flamingo Motel. I really don’t have anything fancy… like  _that._ Kinda left in a rush.”

His cheeks flushed, looking around the streets to avoid Yoongi’s gaze with a lip held between his teeth.

_He doesn’t belong here._

_He’s out of his element; who the hell was he kidding?_

“—Jungkook.”

Yoongi put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. He didn’t know why he was doing so much for the kid, but hey, everyone else was out getting wasted and he had an hour to kill.

He’ll be running back where he came from after tonight anyway.

“We’re in LA, remember? I ain’t no stylist, but I can get you somethin’ real quick from one of the boutiques. Maybe a jacket to throw on over the shirt… better shoes. Makeup’s easy, you actually don’t need much.."

Yoongi checked his sparkling watch, nodding to himself as he started speed walking down the street. He flowed like water between all of the people while Jungkook stumbled behind in awe.

It was 11:30, they definitely had time before Bambam was wasted beyond comprehension, the manager thought.

And just when he thought he was getting too old to remember, he spotted one of Bambam's stylist’s favorite spots to shop right up the block from them.

“Perfect.”

Yoongi dragged Jungkook along by his hoodie, pointing to a plain building with small neon letters.

“C’mon kid, this place don’t look like much from the outside but it’s a wonderland inside.”

Jungkook was doubtful, but damn. The atmosphere totally proved the managers point… the inside of it was  _huge._

He tried to school his face into a neutral expression, not trying to appear  _too_ shocked.

There were racks and racks dedicated to different designer brands he’d never seen in person outside of his mom’s closet, shelves on the walls filled with beautiful shoes and bags—there were even sections that doubled as a nail bar and hair salon.

He was sure this place was  _closed_ until they walked in.

Before he knew it, Yoongi was pulling him towards the blazers, taking different ones out and laying them against his chest. Jungkook quickly tore off his hoodie per a gruff request to do so, letting Yoongi sift through the racks with a pensive expression.

He was definitely out of his depth here.

“Uh, I like this one.”

Jungkook ran his hands over a black blazer, feeling smoother than velvet under his fingertips. He turned to one of the full body mirrors, carefully slipping his arms in it.

“Wow...”

Jungkook was in shock at this one tiny change, feeling different already. He smiled to himself, posing a little in the mirror while Yoongi playfully rolled his eyes, telling him he  _‘actually looked like somebody now’_ and pulled him towards the shoes.

The Well was where he finally understood why celebrities spent so much on clothes. Everything felt so luxe, so lavish on his skin.

He felt like a million  _bucks_ from one article of clothing.

Yoongi even got one of the beauticians to give Jungkook some eyeshadow.

“Alright, we gotta motor. Let’s get this shit checked out, huh?”

Jungkook frowned at the shorter man, feeling his heartbeat increase as they approached the register. The cashier didn’t even mention a price to them, probably knowing full well who Yoongi worked for. He had more than enough to buy these racks.

“Yoongi, no. I-I can’t let you buy this shit for me, it’s  _way_ too expensive and—“

“Kid, just be quiet.”

 

 

 

The next time Yoongi spoke was when they arrived at Club London and climbed out of the taxi (as not to soil the new clothes by ruining it with sweat) walking right into the club without any shit from the bouncers.

Jungkook learned one thing very early: People talk less when you have more money to show.

“Alright, this is it. I’m headin’ back out to take care of some things. Be safe.”

The pulse of the music made his whole body vibrate, the lights shone down, flickering technicolor patterns over everybody on the floor.

The music, he’d heard the songs a trillion times on the radio, but in a place like this—he was in a  _trance._

Yoongi just shook his head at the kid, paying no mind to his daze as he made his way from the crowd.

Jungkook looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

_‘Don’t you want me baby… don’t you want me now?’_

The boy steeled himself when walking into the crowd, eyes trailing all over him from the moment he stepped on the dance floor.

It was like a disco, the colorful squares under his feet making him smile, causing people from different corners of the club to admire his beauty.

His dimples, his cut jawline, big, round eyes covered with smoldering shadow. In this club, new faces like his weren’t rare—but they were  _always_ appreciated.

Especially when they go wandering to the bar.

The boy felt goosebumps over his skin, taking a seat at the bar to people-watch when the bartender tapped him on the shoulder.

_“What ya feel like drinkin’, hot stuff?”_

Jungkook flushed at the compliment, looking over at all the people sitting at the bar with him.

They were drinking all kinds of things, colorful margaritas with the cute umbrellas in them, tall glasses of beer, things that were  _way_ too many colors to keep track of.

“Surprise me.”

He settled with that. Even adding a smirk for good measure when the bartender chuckled, pulling out a small glass and a big, pretty clear bottle.

_“You look new. How ‘bout we start you off with a shot. If you want more, just gimme a shout, m'kay?”_

And when Jungkook had a couple glasses and felt that a delicious buzz—boy did he  _shout._  

His limbs felt loose and so were his lips, talking to any and everybody who would listen about  _God_ knows what. In fact, he forgot the entire reason he came…  now he just wanted to  _dance._

Not ten minutes later he found himself at the middle of the dance floor, troubles disguised, feeling a kind of freedom he hadn’t ever tasted before.

Perhaps it was that feeling—that  _bliss_ , that drove him to make the decisions he had on this journey.

It all started when he caught Bambam’s attention from across the club that night.

Jungkook swayed from side to side, breath catching at the man’s presence even in his inebriated state.

His dark hair feathered over his eyes, no doubt looking straight at him.

The pop star eyed Jungkook like a present yet to be unwrapped—and he  _wallowed_ in it.

Jungkook had always been competitive.

In dance, in his studies, all facets of his life. And right now, what he wanted most in the world was to win  _this_ game.

Bambam’s approval.

 

 

 

 

The pop star heard his bandmates calling after him to saddle up and head back to the hotel. He waved them off, telling the boys to go without him.

 

“Bam, we have to take off early tomorrow—“

“Then go home and rest. I’ve gotta take care of something first."

Mark pursed his lips, following the man’s eyes to where they’d been fixed for the past five minutes.

“That’s that kid.” The drummer muttered, pointing him out to Jinyoung. The singer gaped, pushing Mark aside to look. “How’d he even get in? He’s like twelve…”

“Beats the hell outta me. We need to get back though, blondie’s smashed.” Jaebum piped in, gesturing to a drunk Jackson hanging all over his shoulders.

“I don’t like it.”

Mark looked at the pair, tearing his eyes away when some guy decided to touch all over Jungkook, the kid grinding back like he had not one care in the world.

Jinyoung moved in front of the drummer to block his view, running a hand through his hair.

“Nothin’ we can do about it, babe, it’s his decision. Let’s get out of here, mkay?”

Bambam didn’t even notice the band leaving.

That Jeon kid was  _right_ there in the middle of the club, getting drooled all over by all these people like he was a full course meal.

In fact, he kept eye contact with Bambam when a man came up to dance behind him, making the singer laugh at his sudden bravado.

Jungkook was drunk. Meeting him very briefly told him the boy couldn’t have  _that_ much balls off a stage.

But damn… it was  _exactly_ what Bambam was hoping for.

He sauntered up to the pair, only having to give one look to the man before he scrammed. Bambam hummed, trailing a hand over the expensive blazer resting over his shoulders.

“Good job,” Jungkook’s eyes shut, giving Bambam a good look of the dark brown shadow over his lids. It made his gaze smouldering, less innocent than before.

“You look real pretty, you know. This all for me by any chance?”

“I dunno... depends,” Jungkook rambled, licking his pink lips as he pulled Bambam closer by his shirt. “You gonna give me what I want?”

_Ah. Looks like Bambam wasn’t the only one with an agenda here._

Definitely not. Not when he was wearing those tight jeans that accentuated those thighs, making Bambam want to stop all the chess moves and get down to business.

“And what’s that, baby? Dancing all over these men and women like a little slut… want me to see what I missed out on or somethin'?”

Jungkook giggled into Bambam’s chest, taking his hands and placing them on his hips, pushing them down further and further.

“You know what I want…” He muttered, looking up at Bambam with his newfound liquid confidence.

“I  _deserve_ it… I wanna be your dancer... I wanna dance for you. I’m-  _better._ Better than all of them and you know it."

“Is that right?” Bambam’s brows rose at bold statement, hand softly cradling Jungkook’s jaw

“What makes you think you got  _anything_ for me, baby. People wanna get to me all the time. What makes you so special?” He swiped a thumb over the boy’s pouty lips.

“Just ‘cus. I  _know_ you want me. I-” Jungkook hiccuped, giggling at himself before he continued.

“I saw… the way you looked at me when I walked in. It made me feel so…  _good,_ even if you were mean.. I felt so pretty. Don’t tell Yoongi all that, though.”

 _Yoongi?_ Oh man, he’d have to send his thanks to the manager for leading the boy straight to him.

No wonder he was dressed so nice tonight—he should’ve known.

Bambam gripped Jungkook’s hair and tugged his head back, putting his neck on display. He smirked when he heard the younger yelp.

“Now where was this Jungkook when we first met, huh?”

Bambam finally leaned in, placing a kiss on his neck. He felt the brunette let out a whine when he to sucked over the skin, yelping and pulling away from him. He placed a hand over his neck, cheeks flushed so pink it was ridiculous.

Jesus. He was as fresh as it got—giving himself away on a platter.

“Too many people.”

Jungkook pulled the star to a darker corner in the club, pulling him down by his neck to whisper in his ear.

“There’s nothing else,” The brunette bit his ear lobe—desperation leaking through his voice, in the tentative, frantic hands all over him.

“Whatever you want… I’ll do it.”

Bambam didn’t know the extent of what he was talking about, but anyone else would’ve sent the boy home before he signed his soul away.

That kind of tongue was dangerous in this industry and boy was naive enough to use it on someone.

But, as he would soon find out—Bambam wasn’t just  _anyone._

 

The two piled into Bambam’s car, heading right back to the hotel.

 

Jungkook hung off of his every move, his every word, not letting the star take his hands off him for one second. And when they finally made it up to the room, it was no different.

Jungkook sipped on a bottle of water, gaping at the size of the presidential suite they were in.

He’d sobered up a tiny bit, laying flat on the bed, blazer tossed over the loveseat. His shirt was bunched up under his arms after Bambam started to get a little handsy. He told him to take it off, saying he’d be right back.

Things were escalating faster than he anticipated, but hey, it was better than being alone in his motel room crying or something.

 _I feel amazing right now,_ Jungkook thought, tucking his megawatt grin into the pillow beside him.

Bambam chose him. Nothing could bring him down now.

 _“Jungkookie,”_ Bambam sing-songed, holding up a bag of something as he approached the double wide bed. “Stay still, baby.”

“O-Okay… what’re you—ah, that feels..”

Jungkook let out a quick puff of air when he felt Bambam’s lips on his stomach, tongue peeking out to trace over his navel. Bambam’s kisses went back up his torso, dragging his teeth playfully over one of his nipples.

_“Bambam.”_

It was a new sensation, the dip he felt in his stomach wasn’t dread for once.

It was scorching hot, an itch he couldn’t scratch on his own. He covered his face with his hands, feeling his face burn.

Bambam immediately removed them.

“Let me see you.”

“No..” Jungkook said with zero conviction. He didn’t know what to do with the brand new feeling—intoxicated off the star’s attention alone.

“—You’re  _too_ fuckin’ hot. Look at these thighs, this  _ass…_ wanna eat you right up, take you everywhere.”

He smoothed his hands over the brunette’s hips, winking at him before the white baggie appeared again.

Jungkook stared with wide, curious eyes when the star dipped his index into the bag, holding it up and examining it.

“Hm. Did you mean what you said at the club, Jungkook?... ‘bout you and me?”

Jungkook’s mouth dropped open a little, staring at the cocaine and back at Bambam with a mystified expression that made the thai man throw his head back and laugh.

“Cause if you did.... lemme tell you a little  _secret,_ Jungkookie.” He crawled beside him on the bed, voice dropping into an animated stage whisper.

“I was gonna pick you, anyway. I just love seeing pretty little sheltered things like you  _work_ for it.”

Bambam rubbed his hand over Jungkook’s thigh, “It’s just funny… how you all  _combust_ when you don’t get what you want… those tantrums.Is that bad of me, baby?”

All Jungkook could do was stare.

His mind felt like it was moving too slow for the pace, he felt like he was missing cues, important signs—his fight or flight had vanished completely. The only thing he felt was raw, innate  _desire._

Curiosity.

Fear.

Jungkook  _was_ sheltered.

This act, being in a bed with another man, was unthinkable in itself. Everyone he’d ever been with this way were girls—even  _that_ was limited because he was so focused on dance.

He was familiar with cocaine though.

Not personally, but he knew. His peers used it for boosts before performances. Pick me ups for tests, party favors — anytime, really.

He’d always shied away, terrified of straying. His mother was always on his ass about that, warning him about distractions from the finish line.

And now here he was.

No family, no snooty dance academy of spoiled kids to impress. The world was at his fingertips here.

“I meant everything,” Jungkook stared into Bambam’s grey colored eyes, noting how dilated they were compared to inside the club.

“I just wanna dance, be on stage with you…”

The star had a beautiful, blissed out smile on his face. He wondered if blow was that good. If it really made people as happy as it looked.

That was Jungkook’s first mistake. He had asked him.

And man, did Bambam’s smile  _grow._

He eagerly sat up on his elbow, pressing his polished finger on Jungkook’s lips, spreading a bit of the white substance across his gums.

He didn’t feel anything at first... and then he did.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Bambam ran a hand through his thick hair with a blissful, far from sober glint in his eyes,  _“Jungkookie, Jungkookie, Jungkookie…”_

The star leaned in, pecking his lips until the younger opened up to him, licking the roof of his mouth with so much skill—

Jungkook pulled away.

He quickly scrambled off the bed and burst his way into the huge bathroom on the other side of the room. He barely made it to the toilet, snapping the seat up and retching until his ‘dinner’ came back up, scorching his throat on the way out.

_Ugh. Did he really just do that?_

The boy sat on the heated floor, wanting to curl in on himself when he heard Bambam’s giggling from the room. It made him even more embarassed.

Jungkook shakily swallowed, really regretting all the shots he took when he looked at how wrecked his reflection was in a mirror by the tub.

“You’re such a lightweight.”

Bambam came into the bathroom, crouching besides the boy as he leaned against the tub. He trailed his nails up Jungkook’s toned arms, feeling the shiver rack through his body at the touch.

 _He’s so innocent,_ Bambam thought.

“You’ve got so much to learn, Jungkookie. Welcome to my world.”

 

 

 

 

Jungkook woke up in his boxers, tangled up in sheets with a  _massive_ headache.

 

“Oh, fuck—oh no, oh no,” the brunette cradled his head in one hand, tearing himself out of the sheets with the other. “Where am I… my c-clothes…”

He stumbled out of the huge bed, limping around the room on his ankle, grabbing counters to stabilize himself.

The high pitched shrill of the phone made him jump out of his skin.

There’s no way he could pick it up.  _No way._

He didn’t even know where the hellhe was or how he got here—how could he answer a call?

Fear paralyzed him when he looked into the mirror and saw a purple bruise blooming on his neck.

“What the—“

The phone rang again, making him panic and close himself in the bathroom to try and calm himself down.

_Okay. Jungkook, go with what you know. You saw Yoongi, you remember the shop, the club, drank a bit…_

“Oh my God…”

Jungkook whined, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Did he… did they...?

Why was he in this hotel room practically  _naked?_

_Where the hell was Bambam?_

The phone had started to ring repeatedly, but this time Jungkook bolted out of the bathroom and scoured the suite for his clothes.

He had to get out of there.

With shaky hands and damp anxious tears, he pulled on his jeans that were sprawled out on the floor, his shirt that was thrown by the bed.

“The—where’s that jacket… oh, fuck..” Jungkook gasped, tearing apart the bedding, dropping to his knees to look under it.

The fucking blazer. He  _lost_ the blazer. How- Yoongi’s gonna kill him!

Jungkook collapsed onto the floor, overwhelmed with all the missing pieces (literally). All he wanted to do was leave.

He heard the lock on the hotel door opening, making his heart slam in his chest.

_“B, I wish your dumbass would stop ignoring our calls! You know we hate doing shit like this…”_

Jaebum looked down, seeing the kid from auditions, and now the club, staring up at him like his damn dog just died.

He’s gonna fucking  _kill_ Bambam. He really left his confused ass boy toy in a presidential suite  _alone_ like he’d just help himself to room service and go?

“It’s way too early for this shit.”

The guitarist just pinched the bridge of his nose, reversing out of the door and leaving the boy where he was.

 

 

-

 

 

It turned out the walk of shame was still just as embarrassing as it was the first time.

Little did he know, it would be one of the many,  _many_ times he’d experience it.

He’d never be sure if that morning in particular counted since he wasn’t positive he had sex or not, but shit, did it really matter?

The embarrassment was all the same.

The concierge from the night before looking down at the sight of his hickeys—him looking like a kicked puppy walking through the lobby—it was all the same.

Reality really started to hit on the run back to Flamingo.

He was ready to apologize for missing his checkout time, going over how he’d even  _start_ to explain the fact he was ‘ _actually at The Four Seasons where he may or may not have had sex with a famous pop star!'_

He couldn’t remember shit anyway.

Thankfully, there was no one at the receptionist desk when he arrived.

Counting his blessings, Jungkook just went up to the room. He tried the door knob, absolutely ready for the worst when it opened so easily.

His shit had probably already been thrown out, as if he didn’t have  _enough_ problems—

“Bout’ time you showed up.”

Jungkook gasped, seeing Bambam’s manager in the middle of his dusty ass motel room, arms crossed and standing by the bed.

“... Good morning?”

The mint haired man took one look over his disheveled appearance and puffy eyes, sighing before he gestured to Jungkook’s duffle bag on the floor.

“Came here like fifteen minutes ago, so don’t be flattered,” He started, paying no mind to a shaken Jungkook.

“We’re leavin’ now. Wanted to let you know… I see you didn’t stay the night here. Lookin’ at this place, I don’t blame ya, kid.”

The brunette turned away, crossing his arms and approaching his duffle bag.

He didn’t know how the manager got access to his room—at that point, he didn’t care. Why the hell was Yoongi even  _telling_ him this?

“At least the breakfast bar is decent. Somewhat.”

Jungkook was tired of being confused. He slouched where he sat on the stiff couch, leaning his head over the back of it and staring at the ugly ceiling.

“I lost the jacket.”

“Hm?”

“The jacket you bought. Woke up, couldn’t find it anywhere… m’sorry.”

Yoongi sighed. He must have had a long night, because he was even  _shittier_ at taking hints than usual.

“It’s okay.  _Someone_ held onto it for you, that i’m sure.”

“Whatever. At least whoever stole it looks  _amazing_ right now.” He answered apathetically.

“Nah. I’m sure they’d give it back personally if you asked them real nice.”

Jungkook slowly looked up at the man, noting he was increasingly more sarcastic than usual. He felt uneasy.

“Yoongi…”

The mint haired manager dropped the duffle bag on Jungkook’s lap from above.

“Get your shit, kid. Looks like you’re comin’ on tour with us after all.”

 

 

-

 

 

 _“Jungkook, c’mon! We don’t have all day!”_  

 

_“Coming!”_

 

The brunette quickly changed into his practice attire, almost skipping through the hall for rehearsals, 

He was on cloud  _nine,_ being able to finally say that he was one of Bambam’s dancers, on this amazing tour with him—proving everybody  _wrong_ about what he could and couldn’t do.

The first show was the very next night, and he just  _knew_ he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all because of it.

Jungkook smiled to himself, pushing open the doors to the practice room and walking to his spot.

He started his stretches, watching the other dancers talk amongst themselves, laughing at inside jokes.

His smile weakened.

He wasn’t a very social person, tending to always keep to himself especially when it came to his passion.

Ever since his early days, the message of ‘friends are nothing but a distraction’ was received loud and clear. For the most part, people had understood and given him his space.

That message didn’t seem to translate very well anymore.

“Aye, Jeon!”

The brunette snapped his head up, seeing that their choreographer, J-Hope, was calling his name. He hid his burning cheeks as he faked wiping sweat off with his tee shirt.

“Sorry, Hoseok. Kinda zoned out.”

“No worries, kid. I was sayin’ that I wanted you all to practice in clusters, make sure you have each other’s backs as far as the moves.”

Jungkook looked around, watching how everyone was already situated. There was just him alone on one side of the room.

“I’m sorry, I got it…”

He heard the other dancers giggling somewhere in the room, rooting him to his spot. Hoseok picked up on that, walking up to him and leaning against the ballet bar.

“Jeon… you’re keepin’ up okay, right?”

Of course he was. Jungkook paid no mind to anyone but himself.

“Yeah, no biggie.”

“Seriously. I know you had to play catch up since Bambam added you in last minute, but—“

The brunette stopped stretching, leaning off the bar and standing on both legs.

 _Last minute?_  The tour wasn’t starting until the night after. How could  _he_ be last minute?

“Wait, what do you mean… didn’t he plan for an additional person because of auditions?”

Hoseok had faltered for a second, pursing his lips like he said something he shouldn’t before flashed his feel-good smile at the boy.

“Ah, nothin’ crucial, man. Everybody here learns pretty quick. I’m excited to make magic with you guys, new or old.” The auburn haired male leaned in, effectively flipping the convo to Jungkook.

“Excited for tomorrow night?”

Jungkook started to understand what Hoseok had meant when practice was over.

The dancers were like a whole family together.

They’d been that way for a long time, ups and downs, arenas and stadiums, dancer after dancer—they’d seen it all.

“Yo, Jungkook, right?”

He heard a voice from behind him, turning to see a girl with straight black hair and sharp eyes leaning against the wall in the cafeteria.

“Yeah..” Jungkook looked up from his salad, eyes tracing her familiar round face, trying to recollect the name.

“You’re Chungha. Nice to meet you.”

He definitely recognized her from rehearsals. She was one of the best dancers there, highly regarded by Hoseok—a  _big_ feat.

“Same here, newbie. You’re pretty sweet with the moves, I could see why Bambam added you in.”

“Oh, thank you… you’re sweet too.”

She smiled easy, sliding on the seat across from him.

“Me and the rest of the dancers were gonna have a little get together tonight. Smoke a bit, release some stress before tour. We do it all the time, thought maybe the freshie wanted to join us. You down?"

Jungkook’s watched as her red fingernails trailed up his forearm, recognizing  _exactly_ what the intention was when her voice dropped slightly lower, eyes slowly trailing his body.

He heard the cafeteria slightly quieten, as if they were watching them both like a movie.

The brunettes heartbeat stuttered in his chest, looking around before locking eyes with the girl again.

Chungha was beautiful—more than that, and the past Jungkook would’ve already been hard in his jeans. But now… things were different.

Everything was different.

The person he  _really_ wanted hadn’t spoken to him since he arrived, and it was about to make him go stir-crazy.

That, and the fact he was actively discovering his sexuality wasn’t as straightforward as he always recognized it scared the shit out of him.

He just didn’t know what he was supposed to  _do_ … wait on Bambam to pursue him, or go find him himself and risk disturbing him, or even worse—  _rejection._

Jungkook couldn’t stand it.

This should be over. After all, he  _got_ what he really wanted above all. A spot on his tour. A chance to live his dream.

Why did he feel so  _empty?_

Yeah, Jungkook was in need of this distraction.

He chuckled to himself. Maybe if Bambam saw he was fucking somebody else, he’d pay attention to him then.

No,  _maybe,_ if the stars aligned, he could get  _over_ this stupid hang up over the star and address his sexuality all in one night.

There really wasn’t a loss in the situation.

So, Jungkook made his second mistake.

He said yes.

 

 

 

 

Jungkook decided he loved alcohol.

 

It made him feel  _amazing._ He felt more fun, less stressed and uptight.

He’d been drinking most of the night so far, chasing it with water so he wasn’t too shitfaced for the show tomorrow night — which was of utmost importance to him.

All the dancers crowded in a huge suite, bags already packed and ready to load on the tour bus in the morning. They were all sat in a circle. They’d already done body shots, spin the bottle, truth or dare—all of it.

Jungkook hadn’t had  _this_ much fun in so long. He couldn’t  _believe_ he was about to skip this. 

In his buzzed eyes, it looked like everyone had warmed up to him.

They said he was handsome and Bambam chose right—just like Chungha told him. He didn’t understand most of it, but he didn’t care. He was making friends.

Everybody loved him now.

_“Jungkook, let’s go somewhere.”_

A familiar voice whispered in his ear, dragging him up from the circle. He held on tight to her hand, smiling when he finally saw who it was after moving so much.

 _“Ch-Chungha… what’re you up to...“_ Jungkook trailed off, getting pushed down onto a bed while she climbed on top of him. She giggled, tearing her shirt off and throwing it somewhere else.

 _“That's sexy,”_ he slurred, something compelling him to bring her down for a kiss. It was long, sloppy—her lips were soft, but notably smaller than the ones he really wanted to be kissing.

_“You're sexy—everyone's so jealous right now,”_

He hadn’t touched a girl this way in a long time, nor let one touch him—but he seemed to be doing pretty well if the sounds of the moans in his ear were any consolation.

He just didn’t know when she’d just ended up in her panties, and he sure didn’t remember taking off his pants—but he just accepted it.

She ran a hand through his hair, quickly asking him if he wanted to go further.

_Of course he wanted to go further, he got too far to stop now!_

He fondled with the soft material of her panties, rubbing a thumb over her wetness through the thin material.

 _“J-Jungkook—“_ She moaned, the sound making him stiff in his boxers. He imagined her voice was different, lower pitched—body less soft curves and more lithe lines.

At some point, he swore her eyes were  _grey_ instead of the deep brown they were before.

_“Jungkook, I’m ready…”_

Their lips connected again, and his dick hit the cool air of the room, making a shiver go down his spine when she slid a condom on it.

It felt really good. As good as it was supposed to.

He knew it was loud, mostly because of her. It was tight, wet—again, all her. It was quick, but of course his drunk haze made it drag on longer than it really did.

The next thing he knew he was stumbling out of the room, feeling hands clap him on the back as if he’d  _won_ something.

The dancers were saying all  _sorts_ of things to him.

But the only things that stood out were the crude remarks that had to do with Bambam. They started from bad to worse—they made him doubt why he even  _came._

 

_“This one’s my favorite, cutest one so far.”_

 

“ _Are you sure this is Bambam’s slut?”_

 

_“Of course, he had to be damn good if he added him to roster so fast.”_

 

It didn’t even end there. But there was  _one_ that was the worst of them all, the one that stuck with him long after he’d bolted out of that room in tears. The one that made him realize exactly what he’d walked into.

 

_“You owe me, Chungha. I told you he wasn’t a fag."_

 

 

 

 

 

“Green! …mm, no… maybe  _blue_ for your skin…”

 

Clothes flew from every direction, one blue silk blouse soaring through the air and landing on his lap.

“That would look so hot on you, baby. I was thinkin’ bout that when me and my stylist were goin’ over color schemes.”

Jungkook was sitting in Bambam’s dressing room, the events from last night poorly pushed to the back of his mind as he watched the beautiful star walk half-naked around the room.

“I like green…”

He answered softly, not expecting much of a response out of the Thai man while he was scurrying all of his room for the perfect outfit to wear.

After the silence stretched on for too long, even for Jungkook’s standards, Bambam had stopped.

He narrowed his eyes at the younger where he was sat on the blue velvet couch. Jungkook tried to ignore his burning gaze, helping himself to a chocolate covered strawberry from the bowl on the table in front of him. He knew not to touch the lollipops.

“Those are Tae’s.”

Bambam appeared right in front of him, softly pushing the brunette back on the couch as he straddled his thighs.

“Dunno who ‘Tae’ is so, all mine.”

Jungkook mustered up a playful smirk, continuing to nibble on the strawberry when Bambam had snatched it from his mouth, popping it into his own instead.

“No. All  _mine.”_

Bambam countered, taking the nineteen year old’s breath away with how close he was right then. His lids had smokey maroon shadow that made they grey eyes pop even more, dark hair tousled with stray stands falling over his forehead.

He smelled so sweet.

He told him it was  _Chanel._

“Hobi told me you're catchin’ up real good on the routines. I love to hear that. I knew I made a great decision with you.”

Bambam turned the younger’s face to look at him, forcing his downcast eyes to look at him.

He couldn’t hold contact at all today, biting his lip and looking anywhere but him.

The boy looked all but scandalized when Bambam walked into their rehearsal today, whisking him away in front of everyone to “go over some details.”

“Jungkookie, what’s wrong? This is what you wanted, right?”

The words were sweet, but the delivery wasn’t. He felt exposed, like everything he felt was on display. He needed to get out, collect himself—something.

Jungkook’s eyes stung, gripping Bambam’s hips to get him off of him but the older wouldn’t move.

“I need to go— _please,”_

“Ah, being a crybaby again, huh.” Bambam chuckled, kissing his cheek softly. “You gotta fix that soon. You’ll fall hard and fast.”

_Yeah, tell me about it._

Jungkook lifted a hand to wipe his tears but Bambam pinned his wrist back down.

“You gotta tell me what's wrong, Jungkookie.”

The brunette clenched his jaw, turning his head to the side when Bambam suddenly yanked his shirt collar down.

Hickies.

He then lifted his shirt up— _more_ all over his chest and dotting his torso.

Jungkook’s tears were uncontrollable when they fell then. The both of them sat in a thick silence before it was clear the younger was the one who had to explain.

“I...” He swallowed, rubbing circles in Bambam’s hips for his own comfort, even if he felt nothing like that coming from him. “I had sex last night. With someone.”

Someone else.

Bambam cocked his head to the side, not understanding why the younger was reacting this way. He had to probe deeper and pull it out of him.

“I see.” Bambam smirked, running a finger over his cheek. “You fucked someone… or did you let someone fuck you?”

Jungkook’s face burned a deep pink at the vulgarity, shaking his head from side to side when Bambam sharply turned his face towards him.

 _“Me,_ I-I fucked someone… a g-girl…”

Bambam hummed, lifting his shirt up once again. This  _girl_ did a number on him, too. He couldn’t blame her.

“...A girl?”

Jungkook blanched, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. _“Yes,_ a girl.”

Bambam didn’t exactly appreciate what he heard as he himself planned to be with the boy first. He assumed he was a virgin, but  _straight_ was totally out of the question.

So, he decided to fuck with him a little.

“Did she come?”

Jungkook choked, finally connecting gazes with Bambam.

“Did she— _what?_   _why?”_

Bambam’s gaze didn’t waver, reaching his hand behind Jungkook’s neck and fondling the hairs at his nape. The younger let out a shaky breath.

“—Yeah. Yeah, she did. I mean, she was... loud, so I guess..."

“How ‘bout you? Did you even get hard?”

“I-I was halfway smashed, so—“

Bambam leaned in closer, a smile threatening to break on his face as other hand rubbed over his pecs, stopping to thumb at his nipples.

“I asked you… if your  _dick_ was hard.”

Jungkook moaned at Bambam’s light touches, watching through blurry, watery vision as he lifted his shirt, pressing a thumb to a hickey and making him hiss at the soreness.

“Yes!” Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath, “But—“

“Don’t make me call you again. Finish.”

“Only when I thought of you...I-I came, b-but I wanted—why are you making me say this…”

“I’m not  _making_ you do anything, Jungkookie.” Bambam teased him, “I want you to say what’s on your mind from now on. C’mon, what else. You can tell me, baby.”

“I came thinking of you. A-After I went to my room—“ Jungkook whined, stirring under his weight. “I finished myself off. I didn’t know where you were, I was too scared…”

“I think you  _wanted_ to fuck her, Jungkook. She was good, wasn’t she?”

“I don’t—remember, I…”

Bambam threw his head back and giggled, humiliating the boy below him even more.

He couldn't help it. He was so  _pretty_  when he cried.

“So why’d you do it? She gave you the option, I assume. I'd have to kill her if not — you know that, right?"

Bambam rubbed over the outline in his jeans, humming when it started harden to under his palm.

“Yes, but—I wanted you to  _know,”_ He almost cut himself off again, hips grinding upwards into Bambam’s hand. “—that if  _you_ didn’t want m-me, other people would... wanted to m-make you feel shitty like I did.”

He sucked in a harsh breath when Bambam’s hand slipped inside of his pants and gripped him  _there,_ the precum beading down his tip making the slip easier and easier.

Bambam’s heart picked up just watching him, the way his chest rose and fell so quick off of nothing but a handjob, pretty lips falling open around his moans.

He was noisier than he imagined.

“Shitty.. why do you feel shitty?”

“You picked me as a  _last choice.”_ Jungkook bit out, the animosity, the anger — it seeped through the arousal so easy, it was comical. “I-I thought...”

And  _that’s_ the real motive he was looking for.

He wanted to bring that fire out of him and  _keep_ it there.

Bambam’s hand stilled, ignoring his strangled cry when he wrapped his hand tight around the base of his dick.

“You really  _are_ too spoiled for your own good. Clingy, possessive— _sensitive_ little thing too. Should I even let you come?”

The boy cried out, holding tight onto Bambam’s shoulders. “Bambam,  _please—“_

“How ‘bout this. After the show, if you do good like I  _know_ you can… I’ll fuck you myself. Doesn’t that sound better? Instead of wasting energy on girls you can’t even fuck without getting smashedfirst.”

The words pushed the younger over the edge, so loud he knew it traveled outside of the door. He grinned as the brunette spurted cum all over his hand and the front of his clothes, jerking him through it until all all he heard was his little whimpering and whining. Bambam watched his long lashes flutter open, choosing then to lift his hand to his fingers to his mouth and taste him.

"You're always my first choice, Jungkookie. You're my favorite."

Now he was gonna  _have_ to change into that pretty silk blouse he picked out.

Bambam got up from his lap, looking at the clock. He disappeared for a second before coming out with a damp washcloth. He crouched down in front of the younger, bringing him in for a soft kiss on his lips. It deepened from his end, wanting the younger to taste himself on his tongue.

Jungkook’s mouth opened when he pulled away, about to say something else when Bambam cut him off.

“Clean up. We’ve got a final run through in an hour. There's someone I want you to meet."

 

 

 

 

Jungkook was too scared to face the rest of the dancers.

 

Too scared to attend final rehearsal, practicing alone in his room. He was forced to, of course, when Yoongi practically dragged him down to the stage.

He saw the marks all over Jungkook’s body again, the piss poor job of trying to hide it with makeup.

It was none of his business.

Unfortunately, the  _band_ didn’t seem to have the same motto. One of the members saw Jungkook running out of the suite the night before.

 

_“Bambam, what’s goin’ on with the new boy?”_

_The band was smoking a joint, passing it around the room as they all looked at Jackson. The bass player seemed slightly put off, looking outside of the door once more before he closed it._

_“Who? Jungkook?”_

_Mark immediately rolled his eyes, passing the blunt to Jinyoung who just listened closely._

_“Yeah. I just saw em’ crying down the hall. Looked roough.”_

_“Probably came from that party the dancers are having in that room.” Jaebum piped up, paying no mind to the blonde._

_“You think?” Bambam shrugged, clearly not caring enough to make a substantial move. They all dropped the subject then._

_Jackson didn’t. He pulled the younger aside later._

_“B, you know i’m behind you, but… maybe chill out with Jeon? It doesn’t look good for either of you.”_

_Bambam looked at Jackson for a few seconds before he started to laugh. Of all people to lecture him, the one he fucks regularly. His ex._

_Talk about a conflict of interest, huh._

_“I’m just saying. He’s a sensitive kid, so—“_

_“Who sent you to do this? Why can’t any of y’all let me have some fun without pulling me aside for a stupid speech—it’s getting a bit stale.”_

_“Really, Bambam? You have too much fun, that’s the damn problem here. We’re not some small time band in Chicago anymore, this shit matters!”_

_“Jackson, please. If you wanna fuck him, just go ahead. We all know how you like them."_

_Bambam crowded up in the blonde’s space, trapping him with his arms._

_“Pretty and young...just like me.”_

_The blonde shoved him, not even believing the wild shit that came out of his mouth anymore._

_It was getting out of hand for a while, the star pissed everyone off left and right and pulled disappearing acts daily. Through all of it, Jackson always had his back._

_He was turning into a totally different person now._

_“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”_

_“Good. Maybe people will leave me the hell alone.”_

_The door shook on its hinges when it slammed._

 

 

 

Once Jungkook’s feet touched the stage, all of his troubles disappeared.

 

Nobody else existed, he wasn’t constantly being pulled in twenty directions — he knew exactly what he was doing.

Jungkook marked all of the moves in his head, staring at the empty chairs and basking under the spotlight.

 _Suffering was apart of it,_ Jungkook always had that philosophy.  _Then it gets beautiful._

That thought popped into his mind as he watched Bambam make the the band play over the opening hundreds of times until it sounded exactly how it did in his head. It was mesmerizing to him.

He looked so different this way.  _All there_.

One look at the star told him this was his entire life. He couldn’t agree more.

“Alright guys.”

Jungkook held his breath when Bambam walked over to the dancers, all of them sweating from going over the routines already.

“From the top. Last time.”

The star counted off the song, watching them like hawks as they moved.

 _“Great_   _job,_  Jungkookie.” He smiled, walking over until he was right in front of his spot. Their gazes were connected, the star momentarily ignoring the other dancers when he watched the brunette.

Jungkook didn’t notice the worried looks the band were throwing them from the side, the annoyed ones from the dancers. The dancers who ostracized and humiliated him.

They could sneer, jab and insult him all they wanted. He didn’t care.

Bambam choose  _Jungkook._

So, no, He  _didn’t_ care. Not one bit.

Not when Bambam dragged him into a janitor's closet after rehearsal, making him ride his fingers so desperately, muffling his moans with his t-shirt while he jabbed at his sweet spot over and over—made him come until he _cried._

 _I couldn’t wait,_ Bambam had said, watching Jungkook ride his thigh, whispering in his ear about how  _amazing_ he was.

He didn’t care what anyone had to say anymore.

 

 

 

**Spring 1984**

 

Jungkook hadn’t had the best relationship with Bambam’s inner circle, the band, who all avoided him and threw him weird looks.

Meeting Kim Taehyung was different. 

Jungkook came early to hair and makeup, noticing he had his own separate appointment—unlike the rest of the dancers.

He rolled his eyes,  _knowing_ it would rip him even further and further from the possibility of having a cordial relationship with them. They hate him now, barely bothering to conceal their feelings whenever they saw him.

_After what they’d done to him at that party, why would he care?_

Jungkook huffed to himself, laying back on the couch and kicking his feet up.

He was in  _Bambam’s_ dressing room.

Like hell if he was gonna let some jealous bitches ruin this for him. He can't help the fact Bambam likes him the best.

The boy was so busy fuming to himself, he didn’t notice the door slamming open.

“So  _you’re_ the babe I hear so much about!”

Jungkook jolted up from the couch, almost breaking his neck when he looked at the entrance.

_Oh wow._

He about lost his breath right there.

“I hope so…”

The newcomer laughed, making Jungkook nervous the closer they came to him. The man started to happily chat away, holding a big black cosmetics bag in one hand and a garment bag in the other.

“Come sit, let’s get started!”

He never said a name, leaving Jungkook to stare while he readied his materials on the table.

He had chestnut brown hair much lighter than his, thick straight brows, almost shaped eyes and the longest lashes he’d seen on any guy…

The boy couldn’t help but feel self conscious looking at his own face in the mirror.

Everyone Bambam associated with were drop dead gorgeous. He was just…  _normal._ It was hard to remain confident when everywhere you looked was a damn demigod.

“So I was like _‘if you walk out in that, i’m quitting!’_ and, get this, he—“

The stylist paused, frowning when he saw the younger zoning out.

“Jungkook?”

“Oh—sorry.”

He wanted to apologize better, but he didn’t have a name. The only thing that clued him to his identity was how their eyes lit up upon seeing the chocolate covered strawberries.

Wait.

“Hold on... _you’re_ the stylist? I-I thought you were one of Bambam’s supermodel friends or something!”

The man cackled loudly, showcasing a charming box-like smile that made his heart thump.

“Yeah that’s me, Kim Taehyung! ...Gosh, they didn’t mention you were so sweet. _Cute,_ I heard, but not sweet. Jungkook’s the name, right? Korean by any chance?”

“M’not calling you hyung." The brunette dipped his flustered face away, only to get it tipped back in the man’s direction.

Jungkook held his breath, staring at the stylist’s face as he examined his. Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, almost surgically examining the stands as he walked around the chair.

"Just havin' a look at my pretty new canvas. No worries."

Jungkook thought he had the prettiest skin. It was so warm toned, just like Bambam’s. It reminded him of honey.

“I’m kinda nervous…”

The stylist paused, picking up Jungkook’s whispering unlike most people who just ignored it.

“You  _should_ be.” Taehyung lowered his voice, smiling to himself as he played with Jungkook’s hair in the mirror. He made two pigtails, the result making the brunette turn to him and bust out laughing, quickly tearing the pony’s down.

Taehyung felt his resolve (that he never had) weakenat the sound of that laugh, the sight of his bunny teeth peeking out.

The boy was absolutely precious.

He crossed over in front of him, watching the younger examine the products he pulled out of his bag.

“Is that… hair dye?”

The stylist nodded. “Bam wanted you to either go like a blonde with dark roots or total black. There’s also colored contacts—they’re pretty rad.”

Jungkook stared at himself in the mirror. Seems Bambam had already gone to work on fixing his boring look.

Hair dye, contacts. This wasn’t just for tonight. He wanted to change him completely.

“...He didn’t tell me that.”

Was he  _that_ ugly as he was?

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak, but Jungkook beat him to it, a pensive expression on his face as he stared between the tubs and back at his reflection.

“Just make it dark.” Jungkook said, fondling a makeup brush in his hands. “It’s what i’m used to. Doesn’t matter.”

“Jungkook, it’s cool. I can talk to Bambam and see if—“

 _“No!”_ He rushed out, eyes widened when he realized what he just did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, just… if Bambam thinks it’ll look cool, then okay. It’s his show.”

“But it’s  _your_ body.”

“—Taehyung.”

The two had a stare off before the stylist gave up, sharply exhaling as he started mixing the black dye.

Taehyung put on some music so it wasn’t completely silent—it didn't make it any less awkward between them.

It continued that way, words wanting to come out, neither wanting to upset the other.

In an hour, Jungkook left the chair with raven black hair and brand new hazel eyes. Diamonds dangled from his ears, a choker sitting snug around his neck.

All in Bambam’s vision.

He thanked the stylist with a huge grin, saying he  _loved_ his new look, that it was better than he ever thought. He genuinely believed it.

 

 _Taehyung_ believed Jungkook was beautiful just the way he was.

 

 

 

**Fall of 1984.**

 

 

As time passed and shows went on, the tour was changing Jungkook’s life in ways he’d never imagined.

Him and Taehyung had grown closer, the dancers even farther, and the band looked more grim every time they saw the pair.

Bambam was satisfied with how things were, and in turn, so was Jungkook.

 

_“You remember that first time we had sex…”_

_Bambam giggled, the now twenty year old was wrapped around his waist, laying sloppy kisses all over the star._

_“I told you to not to bring that up."_

_“You cried so much, thought I tore you apart or some shit.”_

_Jungkook slapped his chest, gasping as he was pinned against the wall. He wrapped his legs around his waist with a smirk. "_

_Maybe I wanted you to fuck me harder, old man.”_

_“Old? You’re the one turnin’ twenty on me so fast, Jungkookie.”_

_Jungkook‘s smile slowly fell from his face._ _He couldn't believe it slipped his mind._

_Was it September already?_

_Huh._ _That meant he’d been away from home for four months now._

_He hadn’t missed it once._

_“What are we gonna do for my birthday? You know I haven’t seen you in a while... It’s getting tiring, hanging out with Taehyung instead of you.”_

_The black haired beauty kept the whine out of his voice, knowing it would make Bambam get all pissy. His mood swings were horrible these days—everyone walked on eggshells around him._

_Regardless, Jungkook had needs..._

_It wasn’t his fault the star was always off having meetings, in the studio—only having it so he attended shows and parties._ _It felt like the man was slipping further away and there was nothing he could do but be there when he needed a quick fuck. It's not  exactly what he wanted, but he couldn't complain._

_Bambam maneuvered them to the bed, watching lazily as Jungkook started to unbutton his jeans without being told._

_A lot had changed in little time, and Bambam couldn’t be more pleased that the innocent Jungkook was one of those things._

_Not that he didn’t enjoy corrupting the boy while he had, of course._

_“Wait. I got you somethin,” Bambam leaned down and dug under the bed, Jungkook sitting back eagerly when the star slid out a big gift wrapped box._

_“Bambam…”_

_“Open it! Don’t just stare.”_

_The twenty year old carefully tore open the wrapping._

_“Oh my…” Jungkook blanched when he saw the name brand plastered on the front of the box. “This better not be that jacket or I swear—”_

_Bambam laughed when he saw the boy scream, quickly sliding the black leather YSL jacket over his shoulders. Jungkook carefully ran his hands over the material, looking down at the now pink haired star._

_“I saw it when we had that show in London.”_

_“Thank you so much, baby.” He pressed a kiss to his plump lips, moaning softly when the older bit at his bottom lip. “I’ll put it with the white button up… Tae's gonna go nuts,” the younger slowly slid down his body, popping open the button of his jeans._

_“Now… shut up and let me thank you properly.”_

 

 

 

It reminded Jungkook of a bad dream, the way the tables turned and everything changed.

 

 _“Why the hell would you do that to me?_  "

 

_“Do what, Jungkook…”_

 

_“You knew that could’ve been my chance! Why did you do that?!”_

 

_“God, I thought you stopped being so fucking naive a long time ago. Guess tha'll will never change.”_

 

_“—Fuck you!”_

 

The only way to end a nightmare was to be aware you were even asleep first.

Jungkook was nowhere near waking up.

 

 

 

 

It started when Bambam invited Jungkook as a plus one to a party.

 

Usually, he  _loved_ attending events with the man.

Dressing nice, sitting together, watching him make conversation, the subtle hand on the small of his back he loved so much.

He had to  _beg_ to be able to go to the more upscale parties—especially this night.

Bambam only agreed because he wanted to ‘show him off’. Basically, that meant he needed arm candy—and Jungkook was just fine with that, not being the best at socializing.

He should’ve known things would go wrong when Taehyung and him had gotten into a bad argument.

 

_“It’s new year, Taetae! I’m really excited.”_

 

Jungkook sat in the makeup chair, looking up as the stylist applied concealer under his eyes in silence.

Over the past months, since coping with the holidays without his family or any real friends, Jungkook went a bit…  _harder_ with his vices than he could admit.

“Bam’s taking me to this event — _so_ many celebs are gonna be there, I even heard some record execs could stop by - same ones who got Madonna!”

Taehyung hummed, moving onto his lip gloss, applying gently until Jungkook grabbed his hand.

The stylist frowned, trying to yank his hand away—Jungkook wouldn’t allow it.

“Tae,  _talk._ You make me nervous when you're, you know that.” The younger giggled, expecting at least a smile out of the older.

Nothing. Taehyung just stared, deadpan.

“Give me my hand, Guk.”

Jungkook scowled and let go, knowing the stylist would stop completely if he kept manipulating his face. It was one of his biggest pet peeves.

_“Jeongguk-ah! Quit being childish.”_

Taehyung bit out in korean, making the younger stiffen in his seat.

The last time his name was called like that, he slammed the door in his mother’s face.

He didn’t even notice the tears when they fell. Taehyung was taken aback, not having seen the younger cry in ages.

“If you don’t wanna talk, fine! At least be honest. I expect the hate… from the band, the dancers, but not you. You’re supposed to be on  _my_ side. You’re my  _only_ friend!”

The brunette shook his head, slamming down his makeup brush. He wasn’t falling for that damn sob story today.

Taehyung may as well come out and say it.

 

“—He's changing you, Jungkook. You...you  _changed.”_

 

He was taking a huge risk here, not knowing whether or not the younger would lash out or listen. He never knew with him anymore.

It reminded him too much of his best friend and it hurt.

It hurt that his  _best friend_  did this to him.

Standing right across from him, the latter was paralyzed at the sight of the angry stylist. Exasperated Taehyung was one thing. But this... this angry, disappointed Taehyung. That was another.

He took advantage of the fact he was turned away, forcing a laugh from his chest.

“You barely know me, Taehyung. Listen to yourself. How could you say that without looking like a fucking phony?”

The brunette threw his hands in the air. “See, shit like  _that._ When I first met you, you’d never disrespect  _anyone_ like that—“

“I was no one when you met me!” Jungkook shouted, gesturing with his arms. “Stop saying things like that, you don’t…”

“—Don’t  _know_ you. Right.”

Taehyung turned around, looking over Jungkook’s disheveled appearance.

He wore Versace head to toe, but his neck… it was full of hickies 24/7. Taehyung wasted more product covering his  _body_ than his face.

Jungkook’s eyes were always dilated with bags that were terribly dark, and worst of all—he couldn’t  _sit the fuck still_ for two seconds.

The stylist just didn’t know how to be around him anymore. He was either depressed or extremely excited. Never a median.

“Shouldn’t that makes some bells go off for you, Guk? I’ve known you for a few months and  _already_ see you changed for the worst.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Shut up already, Tae, you don’t know  _shit._ Stick to makeup and clothes and leave me alone.”

“God,” Taehyung chuckled, feeling a pang in his chest.

This wasn’t the person he met that day in Bambam’s dressing room.

“Okay, let’s say you’re right. Let’s play your game. What are you gonna tell Hoseok? He knows for a  _fact_ you aren’t the same, you barely show up to rehearsal!  _Yoongi_ knew way before I did, but  _he_ won’t say a  _thing_ to you until—“

The stylist tore his eyes away from the younger, feeling his throat choke up on the words.

“...Yoongi?” Jungkook’s brows furrowed, confused about what the manager had to do with it. The man barely spoke two words to him—

“What’s  _happening_ , Gukkie?”

The question caught the twenty year old off guard.

What did he mean  _what was happening?_  

He was  _fine._

He was fine and he wished everyone would  _leave him the fuck alone._

Jungkook felt it starting—the itch of his nose, the prickliness behind his eyes. He didn’t want to be there any longer. 

 

_‘Don’t fucking cry. Jesus.’_

 

_‘Ah, being a crybaby again, huh.’_

 

So Jungkook what he did best.

 

He ran away and slammed the door behind him.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

That night he decided to attend the event with Bambam.

 

The older didn’t even bother to ask why Jungkook was crying, just sighing, telling him to get it together before they arrived.

Bambam did a line on the way there, Jungkook preferred to be sober in case he had to speak.

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

The party was full of important people, but nothing Bambam could do was faulty since every other celebrity there did the same.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, pushing the star’s hand off of his ass for the millionth time as he slithered away to the bar. 

He  _refused_ to be embarrassed by him tonight. Not sober.

He ordered a round, sliding the bartender a hefty tip to shut up about his age.

“Good evening, sir. I saw you with Bambam over there and—“

Jungkook was ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off, lazily sipping on his drink.

“No, I can’t get you a deal with him, I’m not his manager.”

He muttered robotically,  _very_ used to suited men coming up to him and trying to get to the star through him. It was an old, greasy tactic.

But this man just chuckled, shaking his head from side to side.

“I think you have me misunderstood. I was at the Vegas show at MGM.”

Jungkook sighed, decided to humor the man.

“Great show.”

“Notably, because of  _you._ ”

The younger tightened the grip on his glass.

“—I was with a couple of guys from the company, they’d been trying to get in contact with you.”

 

_...What?_

 

Jungkook had almost choked on his drink.

“Wh-Who do you work for again?”

The man smiled.

“Jack Kroger. A&R at Universal Records. Nice to finally meet you, Jungkook Jeon.”

He felt the whole world tremble around him, his heart beating loud in his chest he thought the man could hear it.

Nice to  _finally_ meet him?

“The MGM show… that was back in the  _summer_.”

“Oh, I know. Everytime we called, there was always one thing or another. Man, they put up so much fuss about you we thought you were already signed to Warner like Bambam.”

“That… doesn’t make any sense. I sincerely apologize…”

“They really gave us the runaround. I’m glad you came tonight. If it’s okay with you, maybe we can set up a long overdue meeting and clear the air?”

Jungkook felt his eyes about to sting with tears, willing them away so he could stay professional.

 _“Of course!_ Thank you so much, really…”

He should’ve known it was too good to last.

 

 

-

 

 

They were supposed to be on the way back to the hotel. Jungkook refused to get in the car.

 

_“Stop acting like a damn child and get in, Jungkook.”_

_“Don’t fucking call me a child, you asshole.”_

_“Then don’t act like one!”_

 

The black haired man stood his ground, glaring daggers at Bambam on the sidewalk. He refused to get into the SUV—to go  _anywhere_ with that man ever again after tonight.

“Fine! We’ll leave you right here in the street, you can find your way back.” Bambam threatened, peeking his body out of the sunroof.

Jungkook laughed, flipping the star the bird as he continued walking. He tightened his arms around himself, clinging to his body warmth.

“Then dammit,  _go!_ You ruined everything for me anyway, I’m better off in the streets now.”

The pink haired star’s eyes widened, his face reddening with anger as the vehicle halted.

Jungkook steeled himself, knowing he just activated the polar end of his infamous mood swings.

“You fucking _bitch._ You don’t appreciate a thing I did for you, you wanna throw this shit back in my face over some cheap record exec?! Nice to see what you really fuckin’ wanted from me, huh?!”

 

_“Oh, Bambam, what’s going on? I was just talking to Jungkook here—”_

_“I saw.”_

_“—Don’t you have other people to speak with?”_

_“No, I wanna speak to_ this _guy. We already told you what we said, so why the fuck are you here talking to him now?”_

_“You knew..?”_

_“Bambam, sir, I just wanted to speak with Jungkook, no contracts—”_

_“Now you spoke. Why are you still here? Fuck off, man.”_

_“—Bambam, stop!”_

_“Jungkook isn’t an artist. He’s a backup dancer... I mean, unless you want a 'faggot 'on your shitty label, I suggest you beat it.”_

 

“You—god, you  _ruined_  it! You fucking  _ruined_ my career before it started! What do you think is gonna happen?! The word will spread, one label to another, and I’ll  _never_ be able to—"

Jungkook choked up, not even caring that Bambam was watching.

“I fucking  _hate_ you!”

Somehow, Bambam got Jungkook to get back in the car, the pair sitting far away until they got back to the hotel.

Once Jungkook got into the room, he took his anger out the only way he knew how.

He couldn’t ruin the property, nor could he trust himself to leave without doing something reckless.

Back then, he only had one other option.

 

-

 

_“I did it for you.. you gotta—fuck, baby—understand that.."_

_Bambam panted, eyes rolling back in his head as Jungkook slammed himself down on his cock. T_ _he sweet drag of it inside, it felt so much better when he was high—like it was the only thing he could feel._

_That was exactly what he needed._

_“Shut up—fuck,” Jungkook moaned deep from his chest, sweat dripping down his abdomen. “Touch me, touch me, I wanna come again."_  

_“C’mon baby, come for me,” Bambam gripped his cock, jerking it up and down, making the younger‘s hip stutter._

_“Faster, fuck me,” Jungkook let Bambam drive his hips into him, hitting his prostate dead on—even if he was drunk and blazed out of his mind._

_Jungkook never came so hard—multiple times in a row, strong thighs shaking from overexertion. He didn’t move, lying on top of the star’s chest until he felt like it._

_Bambam looked at him like put the moon in the sky after that._

_He never hated it more in his life._

_Jungkook sat up, both men cringing at the feel of his cock sliding out of his ass._

_No matter what he wore, how good he was in bed, his dancing.. he wasn't enough for him._ _What good is being perfect for someone who doesn't even look at you?_

_God, Jungkook hated him. He hated him._

_The twenty year old ignored the star’s hard-on when he started to finger himself on top of him, the wet squelch so sickeningly filthy, dripping down onto the bed._

_It was the first time they hadn’t used a condom. It was reckless. Stupid. Thoughtless._

_But i_ _t felt so good. Skin against skin—the intimacy in it._ _It felt like they were the only ones in the world, like nothing and no one else mattered._

_Maybe that's why he became so obsessed with it._

_“Shit, Jungkookie…”_

_“D-Don’t call me that... don’t call me anything.”_

_It was around this time when Jungkook realized he hated himself just as much._

_That was an odd feeling. To name the monster._

_He let Bambam give him head while watched TV. He wasn’t paying attention, but he couldn’t bare to look down._

_“Look at me baby, please, lemme see those pretty eyes on me.”_

_None of this was for Bambam—he’d been there, done that too many times before._

_This was for Jungkook only._

_“Hand it to me.”_

_After that, Jungkook rolled over, reaching for the hand mirror on the bedside table he got to know so well._

_Bambam carefully passed Jungkook the object after re-crushing the white powder that laid on the surface._

_He even rolled up a new bill for him, watching the younger sniff the whole line._ _A part of Bambam really hoped he wasn’t addicted, watching as he threw his head back, coughing a bit._

_Jungkook hopped into the shower before any conversation started; he let the hot water caress his skin and muffle his sobs, tell him he was pretty._

_The star took a drag of his cigarette, looking towards the door._

_He heard every single one._

 

 

 

_-_

 

 

“Yoongi, I need you to tell me something.”

 

Jungkook watched the short manager grab his daily cup of black coffee, sipping like it was water.

“Wow… ain’t seen the kid in ages and the first thing he does is boss me around? I  _might_ make him start callin’ me hyung.”

The mint haired man was joking, Jungkook cracking a smile with him. He had missed this.

“I’m sorry we haven’t spoke in so long… I was tied up in… in  _stuff.”_

“I can understand that. Stuff.”

Yoongi eyed his current condition. He looked worse than he had in a long time. He was losing weight, and the kid was pretty lean already to begin with.

“That ‘stuff’. That's why you skipped the last couple dates, right?”

Jungkook had a crestfallen expression now. The older was already clued in to his many mood swings by a hysterical Taehyung a week ago, not that he needed the heads up.

He knew how these things went. All of them did.

“You don’t understand.”

“I think I do, kid. I think I do.”

Yoongi flew Jungkook out to the current city they were playing in, meeting him a coffee shop by the airport. It was about 8:30 in the morning.

“Then you know why we’re here.”

Jungkook got straight to it.

“What did Bambam tell you to do about Jack Kroger from Universal?”

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like he foresaw this very conversation.

Really, he did.

He told Bambam from the  _start_ it would come back to bite him.

_"Yoongi."_

“—Same thing he told me do with Max from CBS. Tara from BMG.”

You’ve got to fucking  _kidding._ The black haired man gritted his jaw, clenching his fists in front of him. Three major labels wanted to talk to him.

_Three._

And he hadn’t heard jack shit from  _one_ the entire tour.

“I tried to tell him, Jungkook, but the man is a damn jackass. Can’t tell him shit.”

Yoongi didn’t even flinch when Jungkook knocked his coffee clean off the table.

He saw an employee rise, but he held up a hand. Jungkook wasn’t too safe to chance getting close to at the moment.

“Why?! Did he fuckin’ tell you  _why?!”_

Yoongi rubbed his temples. The pain in his voice made him want to go back to the hotel and beat his dear client’s ass to the ground, to be honest.

“No… but I think you could come up with your own conclusion.” He stood up, side eyeing at the people who still stared.

Jungkook  _had_ come to his own conclusion.

The boy burst into tears, getting up and sprinting out of the store. Yoongi cursed and walked out after him, apologizing to the staff.

The biting cold had them tightening the hold on their jackets when they walked beside each other on the busy street

If this was a different time, Yoongi would laugh.

The scene was  _quite_ the deja vu moment with how they first met. A younger, more naive Jungkook following Yoongi like a puppy.

“—Is this what you were warning me about?”

Jungkook stared ahead as he walked, wrapping his arms tight around himself. Just like the first time.

“Kid’s not himself… and that ain't an  _excuse._ But right now, he’s out to ruin himself and everything in his path. ‘Cause of his own shit.”

“Why didn’t you try harder… why not stop me?”

“Would you have listened?”

 _No._  Jungkook stayed silent for a while, tears drying in the frigid breeze.

“Was I stupid… for trying to love him?”

“'Course not.” Yoongi huffed, thinking of a certain stylist who was currently pacing their hotel room, worried sick.

“It’s never stupid to love somebody who needs it. You just gotta know when to walk away."

 

 

-

 

 

Jungkook skipped getting his makeup done and did it himself, having Yoongi bring the costume to the hotel before rehearsal.

He wasn’t ready to face Taehyung. He was just fulfilling his obligation for as long as he could. They’d be going back to LA again, and as soon as they got there, he’d make his way out.

The dancers faces were almost  _comical_ when he showed up at rehearsals.

He ignored the whispers and stares, focusing on Hoseok and his instruction.

The choreographer faltered upon seeing the younger. Jungkook ducked his head away, thinking he’d be mad at him coming late.

Surprisingly, an  _infectious_ smile broke out onto the man’s face that he couldn’t help but mirror.

That smile dropped as soon as a certain someone decided to choose this day in particular to  _actually_ attend his rehearsals.

Bambam scanned the crowd, eyes hardening as they found Jungkook in his spot in the diamond.

It was pretty alarming, to say the least. He didn’t think the younger was coming back, not even when Yoongi  _said_ he’d get him back.

As for the raven haired man, he kept his eyes forward, ignoring the pain he felt pulsing in his chest.

 

_“Jungkook, hold on—“_

 

_“I told you not to call me anything. I’m nothing to you. Leave me alone.”_

 

He was only here for the show.

 

 

 

 

 

_“Minneapolis…. what the fuck is goin’ on? Y’all ready to have a bomb ass time tonight?!”_

 

Jungkook eyed the overflowing crowd as the pink haired superstar paced the stage like he owned it, smiling bright at all the people who came to see them.

It was a sold out affair, seating fans from every direction, almost breaking the barricades below. Jungkook himself waved at the crowd from his side, heart stopping dead in his chest.

There, in the very front of the crowd he saw a young girl holding a bright poster with  _his_ name on it.

He almost broke down right there.

Shows like this invigorated him, it ignited the passion he almost lost after the disappointments he’d just suffered.

They reminded him to  _get back up._

Jungkook put his feelings to the side, getting into his stage persona when he heard Jaebum’s opening guitar solo.

No matter what happened in life — _this_ is what came first.

He wouldn’t let anyone ruin it again.

 

 

 

 

 

After the show, he was making his way from the venue when he heard there was supposed to be a function at a popular club downtown.

 

He  _also_ overheard that Bambam and band wouldn’t be attending because they were recording, so he saved the date in his mind.

He thought it would be just like any other party.

And Jungkook… he was  _never_ one to turn down a party.

He threw on a tight outfit and cabbed over to the club all by himself, shamelessly doing a line in the back of the cab before he stepped out.

The difference between the temperature inside was jarring. Jungkook tossed his leather coat to one of the staff and ascended into the club.

He waved smoke out of his face, taking his spot at the bar and ordering a water to soothe his throat.

He was already high, he didn’t want to push it tonight. All he wanted to do was dance, lose himself, and  _forget._

Jungkook went to the bathroom, taking a break after having his mellow ruined—he saw a few the dancers from tour in the crowd on the floor.

Nothing was  _working_.

“Am I broken?” Jungkook harshly asked his reflection, grabbing the edge of the sink.

Just when he was about to give up and drink, he  _finally_ felt a cold rush down his spine from the bump he helped himself to in stalls.

He giggled, shutting his eyes as the warmth he received from the high ebbed and flowed in his veins.

Back on 10, Jungkook went back to the dance floor, throwing himself to anyone who could keep up.

It was fun for a while, until he started feeling  _it_ again… that  _sick_ feeling. That uncomfortable  _hole_ in the pit of his stomach when he was sober and alone.

How did he feel even worse at the damn  _club?_

He should just go home.

Jungkook pushed through the crowd, which somehow got even heavier over time, making his way to get his coat when he felt a rough hand grab his arm. He turned around to see who it was.

“Ugh, get  _away_ from me.”

It was one of the dancers from that party—the party he still thought about from time to time. This was  _last_ fucking thing he needed right now.

“Aw, is that how you feel, baby?"

Jungkook stiffened in his hold, tearing his arm away.

 _“Fuck_  you.”

He intended to go on his way, but two more guys from the tour stopped in front of him, making him groan.

Were they fucking  _serious?_

Jungkook threw his hands in their faces, shouldering them apart.

“What? What the fuck do you want?! _Move!”_

He looked around for an opening but everywhere he turned, his view would be blocked by one of the men.

He started to get a funny feeling in his stomach, cutting through his high and making a cold sweat break all over his body.

“Funny you asked that, Jungkook."

Jungkook didn’t hesitate to throw the first punch—but it didn’t work out the way he pictured in his head.

“What do you even  _want_ from me?! Don’t you guys hate me? Leave me  _alone!”_

Jungkook’s chest heaved, struggling to break free to the guys hold as they started to take him to a secluded, dark part of the club. Oh  _hell_ no.

_“Rumor has it, Bambam’s dropping you soon. That stuck up attitude you got must’ve finally pissed him off.”_

“I don’t give a  _fuck_ what he does—let me the fuck go!”

The men all whistled, laughing at the response.

The music muffled a lot of his words, frustrating their victim to no end.

 

_“Fuck, it’s true! Wonder what happened…”_

 

_“He got tired of him. Fucking the same bitch everyday has to get boring after a while, right? Even if it’s perfect little ‘Jungkookie’.”_

 

Jungkook managed to free one of arms elbowing the one behind him in the mouth. He maneuvered his way out of their clutches and made a break for it through the overpopulated crowd.

He snatched his coat on the way out, almost slipping up the steps leading back up to the streets.

 

_“Get back here, bitch!"_

 

Jungkook was snatched backwards by his hair.

He hollered and hollered until he heard the dull sound of  fist to his gut. He doubled over in pain, tripping over his feet while they dragged him into one of inconveniently placed alleyways just near the club.

He felt them rip off his jacket, throwing it to the ground like it wasn’t worth more than their rent combined.

“This is  _sick,_ fucking bastards!” Jungkook gasping when the cold chill hit his bare skin.

 

_“If Bambam had his fill, then why can’t the rest of us, huh?”_

 

_“That’s all you were, anyway. A fucktoy. Pretty to look at—useless otherwise. Shit, everybody fucking knew...”_

 

“—Go to  _hell!”_

 

Jungkook felt the tears well up in his eyes when the reality of what was going to happen started to hit.

But he still fought. He fought, knowing  _damn_ well he was strong enough to kick ass but overpowered by the sheer force of numbers.

That was what pissed him off the most.

Jungkook cried out when they forced him to the floor, head hitting the brick wall behind him trying to squirm away.

_“Stop fuckin’ moving!”_

He grimaced at the feeling of the cold, filthy floor against his back—the smell of trash and dirt ruining his clothes.

As soon as his button popped open, he yelled at the top of his lungs.

 

_Crybaby, crybaby, crybaby._

 

_‘If you leave that’s it! You can’t come back. I won’t help you, I won’t support any of this,’_

 

Jungkook closed his eyes tight.

 

_‘That’ll be it, Jeongguk.’_

 

The younger had begun to sob when they got him down to his boxers.

 

And then… a breakthrough.

 

_“Hey—isn’t that the kid?!”_

 

_“Oh my god, Guk!”_

 

_“GET THE FUCK OFF HIM!!!”_

 

Jungkook felt the tears running down his cheeks. He heard the men start to yell obscenities around him, but he didn’t dare open his eyes—not even when two new pairs of feet come rushing in.

 _“Gukkie, c’mon,”_ He felt a lanky pair of arms lift him up from the ground, his own arm thrown over a pair of shoulders.  _“I got you, Guk. It’s gonna be okay now, I promise…”_

The last thing Jungkook heard was the sound of a blunt force object hitting something with a dull thump in the distance.

 

 

-

 

 

Taehyung and Yoongi were fuming, carrying an unconscious Jungkook into the van.

 

_“That club downtown is supposed to be having this huge opening.”_

_Taehyung did Yoongi’s makeup in the mirror, making sure to tread lightly with his hand, knowing the manager would kill him if he got too extravagant._

_“You should come with me.”_

_The stylist frowned, putting his palette away and busying himself with his bag._

_“C’mon, T. I know you wanna go. We both need to get the hell out, take a break from work. Even if it’s just for a night.”_

_The brunette stared at his untouched his wrack of outfits in the corner, giving the manager a mischievous smile._

_“Only if I get to dress you too.”_  

 

Taehyung’s resolve broke first.

 

He cried, cradling Jungkook to his chest while Yoongi stared out of the window. He hoped to God the guys he knocked out in the alleyway never woke up.

He called the police just to get them off the street. He wouldn’t take any further action until Jungkook was conscious enough to have a say.

 

_“Don’t close your eyes, Guk. Stay awake for me, please.”_

 

_“My head hurts, hyung…”_

 

They  _all_ knew who they were anyway. 

Yoongi slammed his fist against the car door.

Those guys were apart of  _their_ tour family. How fucked up could this be? They ate with these people, slept near these people, practiced day in and day  _out—_

“—Yoongi…”

The manager let out a shaky breath. He didn’t dare look over at Taehyung, staring down at Jungkook’s legs thrown over lap. He looked down at his feet, breath catching in his throat.

He was wearing the shoes they bought together.

 

_‘Why didn’t you try harder? Why not stop me?’_

 

Taehyung reached over and held Yoongi’s hand, not mentioning it when his eyes started to tear up.

 

 

-

 

 

There was something about lights that always attracted Jungkook.

But not these lights.

His eyes squinted, the bright light harsh on his corneas. He blinked until his vision finally started to adjust. Oh. It was just a hospital room. 

A  _hospital_ room?!

He sat up too sudden, causing the beeping on the monitor beside him to pick up speed. He stared at his wrist, gripping the white wrist band in his fingers. It became apparent, staring at the detail of the hospital band, he wasn’t dreaming.

He really  _did_ end up in the hospital.

There was a stir from in front of him—an even brighter light.

It was in the form of a certain stylist, starting to wake up in an uncomfortable looking chair across from the bed.

Jungkook just blinked, shocked the man he previously said horrible things to was even here.

The man stared back, slowly getting up from his chair like any harsh move would startle him.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He asked, clearing his dry throat. Taehyung all but  _dashed_ to the sink, filling up a cup with water and bringing it to him.

After he soothed his throat with the water, his heart skipped when he the older suddenly grabbed his hand, silent tears dropping down his face.

“Tae… what happened to me?”

As soon as he asked, a nurse came barging in. Taehyung quickly moved out of the way so she could get to him.

Jungkook’s eyes widened—even  _Yoongi_ was here. He followed the nurse close behind and stood on the other side of the bed.

(The pair had to fight tooth and nail to be in there since they weren’t family, so Yoongi was gonna stand wherever he pleased).

“We just completed his tests, everything looks pretty stable,” she started, holding a file up to her face as she traced the info with her pen.

“Except...well. Oh, wow. We found a significant amount of cocaine in his bloodstream.”

 _There_   _it is._

Jungkook sighed, looking away from the glares that were likely pointed his way. 

"So, what? Did I overdose or something?"

The nurse nodded negative, choosing to ask another question. “Do you use this drug regularly, Mr. Jeon?”

 _Mr. Jeon_. Jungkook scoffed.  _Who was that, his father?_

“I don’t even know why i’m  _here.”_

The nurse looked at the others, and then back at him. He felt himself starting to become frustrated.

“Sir…”

“—No need ma’am, we’ll handle it. Continue about the coke though, i’m sure we’d  _all_ be interested in that.”

Jungkook glared at the manager. “Bite me.”

“Just answer her, Gukkie.” Taehyung whispered from the other side of the room.

The youngest couldn’t help but cooperate when he heard the sorrow in his tone.

“Yeah, sure—from time to time. Takes the edge off from dealing with bullshit like this.”

Jungkook bit out the answer, the nurse staring down at him with what looked at lot like pity.

“Okay. About how many times a week would you say this occurs?”

Jungkook looked at the nurse like she was mental.

“You need a ballpark estimate or something? Who keeps track of that shit…”

_This was stupid._

The man leaned his head into the cold pillows, covering his body in the scratchy blanket. He just wanted to sleep now.

_“You’re on the fast track to an actual overdose unless you quit, Mr. Jeon.”_

_“Are you done?”_

Taehyung buried his head in his hands, leaving the room shortly after.

Later that day, the band had started to ask where Yoongi had went, so the manager left Taehyung to look over him at the hospital.

Eventually, the events of that night came back to him, including details from the stylist about what was done after. It did nothing but add to the dark pit of shame and resentment sitting in his chest since the start of this wild journey. Now he just knew he would never escape it.

Jungkook had asked them not to mention  _anything_ that happened. Not to the band, the staff,  _especially_  not to Bambam. 

They didn’t protest.

Taehyung had tried to get Jungkook to contact his parents, but anytime it came up he became snappy and defensive. Even pushing him away for hours at a time.

When presented the rehab forms the doctor recommended—he ripped them up in his face.

“Guk, I got you a sandwich, are you—“

When Taehyung had came back from the canteen to bring Jungkook food and talk about his discharge and next steps; the sheets were thrown all over the floor and hospital bed had been empty.

 

 

 

-

 

 

**Winter of 1985.**

 

The light he saw in Bambam had gone out completely.

 

_“Is that Jungkook?”_

 

_“What happened to him?”_

 

_“Is he still on the tour?”_

 

The man stepped into the venue from the first show, pushing his way backstage until he got to the dressing rooms.

It was snowing in LA that day.

Well, not really. Watery snowflakes fell from his jacket, covering his hair in damp water as he trudged through the building.

He’d been staying at the same ratty motel nearby - the Flamingo - where everything had started.

He even began to ice out Yoongi and Taehyung when he started to fully realize the extent of what happened to him.

They hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook held a lot of pain inside. A lot of hatred, anger—  _blame._

Since he didn’t want anything to do with Bambam anymore, he resorted to the  _first_ method of releasing his anger.

His fingers traced along the walls until they stopped at one door.

**_BAMBAM_ **

**_KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING!!!_ **

 

Jungkook barged into the stars dressing room, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it to the side.

He eyed the familiar blue couch, running his fingers over the smooth material as he looked around the room.

He started at the vanity.

The drawers were yanked out onto the ground. He pulled everything out of them, tuntil he located the velvet pouch he was looking for. He zipped it open desperately, dumping the contents out onto the table.

“Always prepared, huh. Fucking asshole.”

Jungkook muttered, wasting no time when he snorted a bump the coke from his finger, stuffing the rest of the bag in his coat pocket for later.

“That’s more like it.”

He started to feel on top of the world again, slipping Bambam’s silk robe over his shoulders and spinning around the room.

He stopped at the record player, pulling out each one and remembering how much Bambam loved them.

Then he snapped them all in half.

Jungkook sat at the vanity, eyeing all of the products that were on the table—including the chanel cologne he was so obsessed with.

The man felt a sharp pain in his chest, remembering how the scent engulfed whenever he was near, making him and everything he touched smell just like it after he left.

His eyes moved to his favorite lip gloss that sat in the middle of the counter, freshly used.

The pink tint made him remember how Jungkook’s lips would look after the star started making out with him everywhere. He loved it, how everyone just  _knew._ It made Jungkook feel like he belonged.

And yeah, he  _did_ belong.

 

_‘Jungkook isn’t an artist. He’s a dancer and he’s mine.’_

 

Just not in the same way  _Bambam_ thought.

The raven haired man threw the gloss behind him, kicking the stool down with a strangled cry.

 

_‘—Unless you want a 'faggot' on your shitty label, I’d suggest you beat it.’_

 

He didn’t even remember when everything on the counter crashed to the ground. His hands tightly tugged his hair, staring at all the damage around him. He wasn’t done yet. He was still so  _angry._

 

_'Rumor has it, Bambam’s dropping you soon. That stuck up attitude you got must’ve finally pissed him off.'_

 

Jungkook knocked down the racks of clothes, flipping over the glass coffee table the star always did his lines off of before a show. He watched everything collapse, expecting exhilaration but feeling the exact opposite.

He fell for Bambam just like that.

His lies, his manipulation—the beams of light that shone through on his good days—it all came crashing down on him in the end.

Jungkook got back up, slowly walking back over to the vanity. He stopped in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection when he saw the door starting to open.

 

“Gukkie..?”

 

Jungkook went frigid as the snowfall outside the venue, turning towards the soft voice that echoed across the room.

 

“Taehyung…”

 

“I’m—I can explain, I..”

 

He looked a mess now. Mascara trailing down his cheeks, hair disheveled, clothing and makeup, broken records strewn about all over the floor. Jungkook cringed, waiting for the lecture. The what the fuck happened to you's. He got neither.

A tube of red lipstick was pushed into his palm.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Guk.”

The stylist swallowed, at the haphazard state of the room.

He closed his cosmetics bag where he grabbed Bambam’s favorite lipstick. It hurt to see him like this—but he knew he couldn't stop it.

This was apart of the process.

Jungkook ripped the top off, writing obscenity after obscenity on the reflective surface, tongue peeking out the side of his lips in concentration. After that, he leaned against the vanity, staring at the stylist as he struggled for the words to say.

It was obvious he was leaving for good. But Taehyung knew nothing after that. 

“What's the plan after this? Home?”

Jungkook chuckled, rubbing his liner rimmed eyes and making the stylist cringe at the mess it made over his face.

“Nice joke.”

“Well… If you need to regroup… I-I have a loft in west hollywood. It’s kind of empty since I’m never really home, you know, ‘cause of the tour. I can just give you the key and—“

“Not interested.”

Jungkook’s voice was bland and emotionless. 

 _“Jungkook..._ I mean it. I can show you, just tell me when you wanna go and we can—“

“I  _said_ I wasn’t interested. I don’t want your pity.”

“Of course not! That’s not what this is—“

Jungkook started on his tangent, coming closer and closer to the brunette from across the room.

“Yes it is. From the beginning that’s what it was. ‘ _Oh, look at this stupid kid, running up behind a pop star like a fucking groupie.’._  You think I don't know what you guys thought?”

The man looked frail, like he was barely eating. His hair was a mess. Didn't even bother to conceal the dark bags under his hollow eyes. His eyes were dilated and wild—just erratic.

It was painful. To see someone you care about throwing their lives away. Pushing  _you_  away.

Jungkook was in a critical part of his own journey—the words of others would be useless to him. He was grieving, and like a child, didn't have another way to express it. 

Jungkook was in his face now, pressing a finger into his chest to emphasize every word.

“People like  _you_ looked down on me from the beginning. Thought I was some spoiled kid—maybe so! But I  _had_ my dreams. I worked for  _everything.”_

“You’re wrong, Jungkook. I know all of that about you, I never thought that once.”

Jungkook just laughed.

“Yeah,  _i’m_ wrong? What is it then, Tae? Why do you care what happens to  _me?_ You’ll still be sitting here getting fat checks working with  _this_ bastard—“

“Stop it! I fucking  _care_ about you, Jungkook! Can’t you see that?! You have people that care about  _you!”_

“Fuck that! People say that but they just wanna use you! Use you and throw you away—forget everything they said, all the shit they promised!”

Taehyung should’ve stepped back. Arguing wouldn’t solve anything. But when he looked into Jungkook’s eyes, all he wanted to do was make him  _understand._

“I just want you to be  _safe._  It… if something happened.”

“Something  _already_ happened.”

“Yeah it did, Guk! It did! And it tore me  _apart!”_

The younger shook his head from side to side, tears spilling from his eyes as his body shook. He didn’t get it—didn’t  _want_ to get it.

“It’s always on my mind. If we were just a  _second_ later…”

When Jungkook realized he was talking about that night, he immediately made his way towards the exit.

“Fuck it. I don’t have time—I'm going. Goodbye, Taehyung.”

Taehyung was trembling, terror crashing through his veins at what he was about to do. His hands were clammy, heart was slamming against his ribcage.

"—Don't!  _Please_  don't. Just tell me what you need—!"

"Why, Taehyung? Just fucking forget me like everybody else!"

_Let him leave, Taehyung. Just leave him alone. It can’t be helped. He has to help himself—_

“That's fucked up. You can't ask that of me, Guk."

He just needed to say it. Just  _once._  It would drive him further way, but he couldn't let him walk out of that door thinking otherwise.

“I fucking  _love_  you. I do... a-and I don't give a fuck if you don't believe it 'cause I know my heart. Now you do too."

To admit what was brewing inside of him for so long, what he tried and failed to kill—only for it to come back 50 times stronger. He was wrong for springing this on Jungkook when he was at his weakest.

It wasn’t just wrong. It was  _selfish._

If there was a slither of possibility of making him stay, he'd have said anything.

 

_“Please, Gukkie, just—“_

 

The stylist fully expected it when Jungkook had shoved him onto the ground. The fear on his face would remain in his dreams for months afterward.

 

_“Stay the fuck away from me.”_

 

 

-

 

 

At his lowest, Jungkook quit dancing for a while.

He holed himself up in a small apartment for the winter, writing song after song to try to medicate his pain. When that didn’t work, he’d get drunk, do line or two—

Wash, rinse, repeat.

He heard about the new leg of Bambam’s tour, careful not to immerse himself too much in that lest his mind drift to a certain stylist (whose heart he smashed in pieces).

His dealer told him there was supposed to be a party at a well known spot in the city, saying that’s where all of his highest paying clients were — aka,  _every_ actor you see at the other end of town filming a movie.

Jungkook hadn’t partied since the assault.

He was too afraid.

Afraid to run into anyone he knew or even those guys again — no, he didn’t press charges. He  _said_  he didn’t want to risk the story leaking and possibly ruin his or Bambam’s rep. Though it would take a lot more than one irrelevant dancer on his tour getting raped to ruin him — the homosexual factor meant it wouldn't see the the light of day.

It happened all the time, unfortunately.

Yoongi and him had fell out over that decision. They hadn’t spoken since.

Jungkook decided he deserved to go out, even just once. He’d never get over it if he didn’t.

And that was exactly how he found himself inside the vivacious club, rubbing shoulders with celebrities and sipping colorful drinks at the bar.

He was just gonna sit, drink, dance and go—but that entire plan was  _wrecked_  when he took a double take at a crew of boys on the dance floor.

They looked like they were having a  _blast,_ those boys.

Jungkook watched longingly, seeing how they laughed with their entire bodies, looking like they hadn’t a trouble on earth.

And then there was one.

 _Another bright light,_ Jungkook thought.

Jungkook felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach he didn’t feel in  _ages._

All of them were pretty but this boy… he was absolutely  _exceptional._

He already stuck out, being almost six foot with cherry red hair—but his  _moves._ Jungkook hadn’t danced in a while, but watching him, he felt absolutely compelled.

So he did.

Jungkook didn’t factor it in when he saw Hoseok walking up to the boys, figuring the choreographer was just having fun with friends. So much for letting lose.

He tried to turn his head and lose him in the crowd, but the auburn haired male had tracked him down.

Hoseok just smiled warmly. Not a thing about the tour came from his mouth. It seemed he just wanted the young man to have fun after everything that happened.

Jungkook couldn’t argue with that.

 

_“Hey guys—come meet Jungkook!”_

 

The crew accepted him (a jolt in itself), they eventually paired off, pushing him and the redhead together.

Jungkook couldn’t help but stare, pulling his body closer under the strobe lights.

 

He learned his name was  _Kim Yugyeom._

 

He was a stunning dancer born in the same year as him.

When they figured that out,  _along_ with the fact they both were trained in contemporary but liked hip hop better—a switch had flipped.

They were connected at the hip before they knew it.

_“Where to next?”_

After the most fun dance-off he ever had, seeing his old choreographer  _lose it_ to Billie Jean—the night reached the point where decisions had to be made.

_“Hotel. Ten’s fuckin’ smashed.”_

Yugyeom’s soft, almost child-like voice echoed in his ear when he spoke to Jimin over his shoulder. He turned back to him after, small hand running fondly through his recently dyed brunette strands. Jungkook noted how his gaze fell to his lips multiple times.

 

_“Wanna come back with us?”_

 

_“Sure… yeah, sure, let’s go.”_

 

Jungkook felt the electricity between them.

His beautiful red hair and matching flushed cheeks. There was some kind of magnetic pull they had to each other in the club—maybe it was the drinks.

Even so, Jungkook knew he would be nothing but a distraction to the boy—noting how he would zone out when they danced, like something else was on his mind.

No biggie. He needed one too.

 _They could be each other’s distraction,_ Jungkook thought.

Everyone could use a beautiful distraction.

 

-

 

Yugyeom had gotten a little handsy with Jungkook on the way there.

Not too handsy, just a lot of thigh and arm strokes—enough to raise flags in his mind about what would probably happen. 

 

_“Jungkook-ah…” Yugyeom trailed off, leaning his head on his chest as his small hand tentatively explored his thighs._

 

_“Later,” The brunette gently grabbed his hand, intertwining it with his, “I promise.”_

 

When all of them had arrived to the hotel, it was clear Jungkook hadn’t done the math.

He hadn’t put it together that almost  _all_ of these boys were dancers or musicians of some sort, staying at the same hotel with Hoseok.

He was more focused on Yugyeom, his smile, his eagerness.

He took his hand, giving him a killer smirk.

“Show me the way.”

When they arrived in the quiet hallway, they talked quietly among themselves—as if they were keeping themselves occupied before what they really came for.

“You still want this?”

Yugyeom swallowed, visibly skittish when he looked into his eyes.

Jungkook noticed the thick liner on his lids, smoked out with a shade so  _familiar_  he almost faltered.

_Focus, Jungkook. He wants you. Nobody else._

“Y-Yeah, let’s do it.”

Jungkook ran his hands through the loud strands as he got closer and closer to his lips.

He pressed their foreheads together, Yugyeom giggling at the anticlimactic approach he took to calm him down.

“I like your hair, Yugyeom. It’s pretty.”

Kim Yugyeom was a very pretty boy.

 

_"—Thank you, Jungkookie. It was my idea. Doesn’t he look sexy?”_

 

He guessed that was why he was already claimed by someone else.

Someone he knew that just  _loved_ pretty boys.

Both of the boys froze, twin looks of mortification on their faces.

One drunk, silver haired pop star leaning against the wall, glaring at them both.

“..Bambam?”

Jungkook's heart dropped, ripping himself from the redhead when he started to look between them.

So  _this_ was Bambam’s new toy. The new him.

The silver haired man seemed to be on out’s with him too, because the boy looked at Bambam with so much anguish—like a  _mirror._

The bright red hair, the smokey makeup, the tight, flashy clothes. It was clear. Jungkook couldn’t find it in him to feel animosity.

After meeting him, all he had was compassion.

“I saw your little stunt with my lipstick. All bark and no bite. But maybe that isn’t such a bad thing… you know I never liked teeth.” 

Yugyeom was staring at Jungkook the same way, both boys analyzing each other until they couldn’t bear it — the thought of what it  _meant_ made them both want to run.

And running? That was something Jungkook was great at.

“Don’t listen to him, okay? You can still stay-“

“I can’t, Yugyeom. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

 

But fate had a funny way of working.

 

Jungkook took off down the hall, pressing the button to the elevator so hard he thought it would break.

Everything  _burned_ , he could barely hold himself up. When he entered the elevator he ignored the stares, tears welling up as mind clouded with all the things he had tried so hard to distract it from from for so long.

He knew Bambam would move on—seeing it happen right in front of his eyes was different story.

It wasn’t like he still wanted him, fuck that. But god, it still  _hurt._ Just to know someone else would possibly go through the hell he had. 

It was painful.

Jungkook left the elevator, fully intending to dart out of the door and run home.

His mind was on overdrive—felt that  _itch_ just nagging at him.

He still had a little left in his bedside table… if he was lucky, his dealer was still out at this time and could get a dime to survive the night and save the rest—

 

_“Jungkook-ah… is that you?”_

 

For the second time that night, Jungkook stopped dead in his tracks.

 

 

-

 

 

_“Do you want some tea, honey?”_

 

The last place he ever expected be was back home. But here he was.

His mother made him a mug of tea with milk that he always loved, hands trembling as she laid it down in front of him.

They hadn’t spoken much past the initial reunion, silently falling into the late night routine he was used to whenever he couldn’t sleep.

“I’ve been looking for you. When I heard Bambam was back in LA, I took off work, checked every major hotel and asked about you but—“

Jungkook swallowed his tea, too caught of guard to even think about how he would approach this.

“You were wasting your time.”

“...What do you mean, honey?” His mom asked, sitting down beside him and grabbing his hand.

It was  _way_ too much, the fact he was here. He tucked his head into the crook of his other arm.

“I quit the tour.” He choked out, groaning at himself when the tears slipped out on their own.

“Oh, Jungkook..." 

 _“—No,_  eomma!”

He banged his fist against the table, making her jump back in shock.

She swallowed a huge lump in her throat. Something was terribly wrong.

 

_“Don’t you say that you told me so!"_

 

_“Baby, Jungkook, I wasn’t going to—“_

 

_“I won’t be able to take it.. please don’t make me leave, I'll be good, I'll be good...”_

 

Jungkook’s mother wrapped her arms around him, letting her son sob into her chest as she rocked him back and forth.

She rubbed circles into his back, crying to herself only once he finally fell asleep in her arms.

He’d said one last thing to her, making her whole world shatter before carrying him up to his room.

 

_“I need help, eomma… I can’t take this anymore.”_

 

 

 

-

 

 

**Summer of 1985.**

 

Rehab wasn’t what he thought it would be.

 

While Jungkook associated the place with suffering, stupid talks and padded walls.. it was quite the opposite.

Of course, the detox period was  _nothing_ to fuck around about. It made him wish he was six feet under sometimes—but he got through it.

His favorite part were group meetings—no,  _the_   _garden._

Often times he’d sit out on the grass, writing songs on a used guitar he found. He felt peaceful here, unlike on the outside where everyday he was on an uphill battle with his vices.

“Jungkook, you have a visitor.”

The brunette grinned, quickly thinking of a song he could play his mother when he saw her.

Maybe it’s his dad this time—those visits were more serious, but they were both working towards something healthy.

“Thanks, be there in a sec.”

He quickly scrambled on his feet, collecting his things when he heard a deep voice call out to him.

Jungkook held his hand over his mouth, immediately feeling weak at the knees.

 

“No, stay where you are, Gukkie. I love Tulips.”

 

Jungkook held nothing back when he’d burst into tears.

 

 

 

 

 

**Spring of 1986.**

 

A lot had changed in a year and half’s time.

Last winter, Jungkook was suffering and alone, pushing everyone away.

This winter—Jungkook couldn’t even recognize himself from that turbulent year.

“Are you sure about this?”

Jungkook gripped the now blonde’s hand so hard he knew it hurt, staring around the lobby of the rehab.

Taehyung playfully groaned.  _“_ _Yes, Gukkie._ Don’t be so scared, okay? I’m here. Treat it just like when I’d visit you.”

The stylist kissed the younger’s hand, both of them exchanging affections before they walked into the one lounge rooms.

“I heard he really likes visitors since his boyfriend’s so busy now. Kinda funny, kinda sad—don’t bring it up.”

Jungkook just nodded, too nervous to speak when his eyes locked on a -  _woah_ \- brunette haired man sitting down at one of the benches outside.

_There he is._

Taehyung kept a hand on his lower back, guiding him out through the glass doors.

 

“You like the garden too, huh?”

 

Bambam turned his head, face scarily blank when he looked at the pair. Jungkook held his breath, grip tightening on the blonde’s hand.

 

“Stop fucking around before Guk pees himself.”

 

The star busted out laughing, Jungkook gasping in shock when the star hopped up and hugged them both.

 

 

-

 

 

Taehyung had left the pair alone to go play with a patient's puppy.

They sat on the bench together, Jungkook openly staring at how much Bambam had changed.

He looked so much healthier today. Cheeks filled out. Hair lustorus.

Jungkook imagined he looks miles better as well — Bambam told him he was happy about it right after they greeted each other.

“You and Tae, huh?” Bambam played with a flower petal. “Knew it.”

Jungkook playfully slapped his shoulder. “No you  _didn’t.”_

“Seriously, Kookie—“ Bambam stopped himself. “Jungkook.”

“It’s whatever.” Jungkook assured him softly, watching him pull the petals from a flower. “This isn’t two years ago.”

Bambam shook his head, laying the flower down.

“Really. I always knew how Tae felt. One day you were a stranger, next you were  _all_ he ever talked about—like he said I was with Gyeomie.”

Jungkook sighed, eyes shut as he observed the past.

These two were never meant for each other — and that was okay.

“I really like Yugyeom. He’s a great friend to me... and a sweet soul. You’re really lucky. I was worried for him at first, being with you.”

"Oh, I know." Bambam smiled softly before it faded again. "Trust me, I know."

He didn’t speak for a while, seeming to be searching for the words. The birds chirping filled in the silence, making it a peaceful one.

“Not to shit on the moment but… Yoongi told me... about the incident.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw. He had a tiny grudge, but he knew it wasn’t his fault. He was still grateful for everything Yoongi did for him.

Jungkook made a mental note to tell him as much.

“It slipped when he was heated. He went off a lot, beat my ass once or twice. I was in a fucked up place… but Jungkook, I swear, if I had _known._ ”

“—I don’t wanna make this about that.” The younger’s voice wavered, knowing playing pretend wouldn’t change a thing. No one could know what  _would have_ been in their situation.

“Of course,” Bambam rushed out, carefully laying a hand over Jungkook’s. “Just know... it wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

Jungkook looked over at Taehyung, laying down on the grass with an excited white Lab licking all over his face.

He knew.

“After mom died i've been thinkin’. You know, reflecting how they tell us in here… I was  _horrible,_  Kook. I’m fuckin’ sorry for all the bullshit I put you through.”

“The first thing I did in therapy was forgive, Bambam. I hated you. You put me through hell, plus I made my own while we were at it. Neither of us were right.”

"But that doesn't mean shit. I dragged you down with me and I'll never fucking forgive myself for it."

"Bambam..."

The younger squeezed Bambam’s hand. He noticed this was the first time he’d seen him without a sparkly ensemble on and dyed hair.

It made the moment all the more real for him.

“I need you to let go. Let’s just truce, okay? We went to rehab for it—that’s the ultimate price in our world. I’m sure as hell ready to move on.”

“If that’s what you want,” the star shakily smiled, “You can still beat my ass if you want, I told the staff it was okay.”

Jungkook threw his head back and laughed, Taehyung looking up from his playmate with stars dazzling in his eyes.

“...How about music?”

“It’s goin’ good,” Jungkook got up, walking backwards as he approached his boyfriend.

“Right now i'm focused on helping out a  _special friend_ of mine with their album.”

“Special friend? Who?”

Jungkook ignored the star, sitting on the ground besides his lover. The puppy immediately curled up in the dancer’s lap.

Taehyung planted a kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear. “ _Told_ you it would be okay."

It wasn’t perfect, all wasn’t as squared away as he said. But, Jungkook learned to forgive without erasing.

To face it — not run.

_“Hey!”_

Bambam trudged up to the pair, making them both cackle.

_“Don’t gossip—who’s the friend?! Do I know them?!"_

Jungkook was busy making better memories.

 

 

-

 

 

**Winter of 1987.**

 

 

_"Yugyeom, it's perfect. We've been working on this record for almost a year and a half now."_

 

_"I know, I just...I wish he could hear it.."_

 

_Jungkook smiled softly. "He will. He loves you, Yugyeomie. The label will love it, the fans will too."_

 

_"Thank you, Jungkook. Give Tae my love, okay?"_

 

After his phonecall, Jungkook stood at the balcony staring at the breathtaking view of the city lights twinkling from above.

Taehyung pushed the glass door aside, knowing exactly where he’d find him.

He wrapped his arms around him, planting a warm kiss to his mouth that the other immediately deepened—bringing the stylist to him by his waist.

“I love kissing you—everywhere.” Taehyung breathed out, Jungkook giggling at his honesty as he guided him back inside the cozy West Hollywood loft.

There were half dressed mannequins everywhere, papers of lyrics strewn about, polaroids on the walls.

“Then kiss me.”

Jungkook hopped on the king bed like an eager kid, practically ripping Taehyung’s shirt from his figure.

 _“Yah, Jeon Jeongguk!”_ The blonde cried out, unbuttoning the rest with the utmost care.

“That was Gucci, be mindful, please _.”_

_“That was Gucci~”_

Jungkook mocked in a quite  _exaggerated_ low timbre, scrambling away the bed cackling until Taehyung caught him by his ankles, bringing his legs around his waist.

The blonde’s hair went back to his signature light brown, grown a bit longer.

He had one of Jungkook’s scarves tied around his head as he stared down at his lover like he hung the moon.

(He’d shed his clothes earlier, leaving him stark naked below him with no shame, free for him to worship).

They’d come a  _long_ way to get to this point.

These days Jungkook was opening back up intimately, pulling the stylist away for any and everyone to see — Taehyung counted every single blessing.

“You’re so  _beautiful,_ Gukkie… all pretty and soft, just for me.”

The dancer still couldn’t handle the compliments, readily deflecting them with humor to distract his overflowing heart.

“Beautiful  _and_ pretty?”

“You’re the poet here, not me.”

Just like fashion, makeup,  _music_ — making love was an art.

Taehyung’s large hands caressed his smooth thighs, the stylist cooing when the younger had started to whine and stir below him.

“Take off your jeans.”

Jungkook demanded like the brat he was, watching with overwhelming satisfaction when his boyfriend did exactly what he said.

“Love Calvin Klein, but he’s gotta go too.”

Taehyung slipped off his boxers, flinging them to side as he looked down at his muse.

“What’s next, Cap’n Kook?”

“You— _what?”_

Jungkook squinted his nose up in complete disgust, his boyfriend collapsing on top of him laughing.

“That wasn’t even  _close_ to sexy.” Jungkook murmured, tugging on his dangling earring. “But you’re still a 10.”

He pushed his hair back, planting a soft kiss on Taehyung’s forehead while he stared up at him.

 

They ended up staying like that. His boyfriend tucked into his chest, tracing patterns over his skin, talking about anything that popped in his mind.

There was something about  _lights_ that always attracted Jungkook.

 

_“I love you, Guk.”_

 

_“Love you forever, baby.”_

 

And Jungkook dozed off that night, knowing the future ahead would shine brighter than any of them.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
